Two Sides of the Same Coin
by Ten Toes
Summary: Petunia & Harry become a team, and Harry finds the wizarding world much earlier than anyone suspects. He hides his Slytherin self under the guise of a naive Gryffindor. He also hides the wizard friendships he made years before Hogwarts. AU
1. Chpt 1: May the Best Ploter Win

**Two Sides of the Same Coin**

**A / N**: This is an AU. I might borrow events from canon down the line, but on the whole this is totally an alternate universe concept. I wanted to explore a couple of ideas. One where Harry finds the wizarding world early and makes friends. I won't go into detail yet on that one as it won't happen for several chapters. The main idea there is to explore the conflict in having friends others think you shouldn't. The other idea I wanted to play with is where Harry's Slytherin side came from and a relationship with Petunia. His parents were both Gryffindor thru and thru, supposedly, even if James was a bit of a bully - that's still Gryff. I was playing with these ideas when suddenly Petunia started acting Slytherin, and I had the source of Harry's cunning and sly side. For me, this is more Slytherin than the ambition part. I can't see Crabbe & Goyle as being ambitions...

Everyone knows characters don't always behave, and what you end up with isn't always what you had planned. I started with getting Harry to Diagon Alley to meet his friend, and ended up with neighbors plotting, then Petunia hijacked their plotting with her own plotting, and suddenly Harry is learning Slytherin-ness at her knee, as it were. I kinda like it, my Petunia is somewhat shallow and brilliantly cunning all at the same time. She's a tad twisted and even a little sad, I hope you like her. ;-)

Btw - don't even ASK about ships. He's 7-8 for heavens sake!

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**Chapter 1 - May the best plotter win.**

Everyone on Privet drive knew the Dursley's had a phobia about gossip. Well, not all gossip, just gossip about them. Petunia lived on gossip - about other people. A standing joke among the men in the neighborhood was that Vernon Dursley was afraid of 3 things: not being normal; bad gossip; and his wife's tongue. Watching the Dursley's strive for average while pretending greatness, was of unending amusement to all eager "D Watchers". Favorite moments were chuckled over and shared amongst the crowd.

The Dursley's of course, had no idea their neighbors knew so much about them. They would have been horrified if they realized exactly how much the neighbors knew about what when on inside number 4. Especially their interest in one small, dark haired, little boy named Harry Potter. Everyone agreed that he was about as un-Dursley as a person could get. Frequently heard comments over tea were usually along the lines of "If his parents weren't already dead, I swear I'd strangle them for being so foolish as to leave their child with THEM!" and the ever popular "If it were me, I'd have a list a mile long with the Dursley's at the bottom, and I'd include people I hadn't seen since third grade and random picks from the telephone directory!"

After a call to Child Protective Services accomplished nothing, indeed the case seemed to have completely disappeared and been forgotten by all the primaries involved, a few of the more imaginative neighbors came up with a plan. They would use the Dursley's fears against them and trick them into better treatment for the child. It would also have the side effect of actually being fun. They would get to gossip, stare, and make blunt comments unhindered by any normal constraints of polite behavior, as long as the script was followed. After all, the goal was to be overheard and have their scrutiny noticed by Petunia and Vernon. Propriety be damned!

Meetings were held to come up with each months focus and to script out various key phrases that would, hopefully, push the Dursley's in the right direction. It was felt an organized approach, with one dialog reinforcing another, would have the best effect. The plan almost fell through during the initial meeting when they couldn't reach a consensus on which problems should be tackled first. One group felt the physical damage was the most critical while another wanted to focus on making sure little Harry had enough to eat. The women felt he was seriously undersized and waxed long about malnutrition and possible long term effects on his health and growth while the men were worried that Dudley might manage to cause serious physical damage if he wasn't stopped soon. Thankfully someone mentioned that they could actually gossip about two topics at the same time, it might be more realistic anyway. A single topic a month and even Vernon might catch on.

After much laughter, gossip was devised, food eaten, scripts organized, teams assigned & scheduled and the obligatory argument of gin vs vodka was enjoyed by all. The new blackcurrant Vodka was the surprise, dark horse winner. The gin crowd felt including flavored variants wasn't fair whilst the vodka crowd told them to stop being sore losers just because their favorite beverage lacked imagination. As the gin drinkers settled back, someone was heard to mutter "They have to flavor it, the bloody stuff doesn't have any taste otherwise."

That next week, after the hangovers had cleared, the Dursley's never knew what hit them. Suddenly, their neighbors were blatantly staring and whispering and Petunia was overhearing and doing some plotting of her own.

"Vernon! Vernon! You aren't going to believe what I just heard!"

"Some fun news, Pet?"

"NO, not fun at all! Its" Petunia broke off mid sentence as she noticed her nephew coming out of the bathroom. She picked up a banana off the counter and handed it to the child. "Here, take this and eat it outside on the front porch while I'm talking to your Uncle."

Vernon stared at her, speechless. Harry stared at her, glanced at his Uncle, and then he slowly took the piece of fruit and walked out the front door.

Vernon gasped "Petunia! You just "

"Wait Vernon, what I heard is about US. You have to talk to Dudley tonight. I just overheard Sonja and Elizabeth talking about how Dudley is a bully, becoming the neighborhood terror! They said he's growing up to be dangerous and his violence just isn't NORMAL!" Petunia sounded horrified.

"Now Petunia, are you sure you heard right? I can't imagine them saying that to you." Vernon sputtered, grasping at straws to right his suddenly shifting world. The freak was supposed to be the abnormal one, not his son!

"They didn't say it TO me Vernon, I overheard them talking at the bakery. They were on the other side of the baguette display whispering to each other. They never even saw me. What's worse Vernon; is that Elizabeth was saying her husband was the one who told her Dudders violence wasn't normal for a young boy. She was telling Sonja that Edwin and Charles were discussing it the other night after they all had been talking about how unnaturally skinny the boy is lately."

Vernon went white. "Edwin and Charles said my son isn't normal? My Dudley? And they said that boy is unnaturally skinny? Is that why you gave him the banana? Are you sure they said 'unnaturally'?"

That afternoon, the Dursley Sr's had a long discussion about gossip, neighbors and how some minor changes could be made so that their household would appear completely normal on the outside.

While Vernon went upstairs to have a long overdue chat with his son about picking on his cousin and acceptable public behavior, Petunia relaxed back in her chair with a very satisfied smirk. She abhorred the fact that her family was being gossiped about, but she was sick of putting up with Dudley's bullying ways and Vernon's dismissal of her concerns. This gossip could play perfectly into her hands. She wasn't crazy about her nephew, although she didn't hate the boy like Vernon did. But, it would be all too easy for Dudley to go from bullying Harry to bullying other children, if he hadn't already. That would simply not be acceptable, especially if he grew to match his father in size. She could just imagine the angry parents of injured children. The things people would say THEN! Vernon might be blind to Dudley's ways, but nobody else would be, and **they** would act when their children were targeted. This had to be nipped in the bud. She knew her son. He would never be able to understand that his cousin was a special case. He would believe that whatever he was allowed to do to his cousin was acceptable to do to others, anywhere and everywhere.

Vernon's plan would fail, she would lay money on it. Dudley would not be able to control himself enough to have different 'at home' and 'away' behavior. Her poor Duddikins…there were just some things he wasn't quick about understanding and he had zero self control. He came by it naturally from his father, poor lad. She really shouldn't be thinking like this about her dear boy, he was such a sweet child underneath. Some of his friends were simply bad influences and Vernon wasn't one to teach restraint, he always wanted their son to have everything. Dudders would need something to cheer him up. Now, lets see, did she have the makings for his favorite chocolate cake?

Everything appeared to be going according to the neighbors plan. None of them knew that the gossip Petunia gave Vernon wasn't quite exactly as she overheard. Petunia's stories always had some additions and twists that none of the plotters would have recognized, but the mainline was still there so it tied in with what Vernon heard. It seemed Petunia had an agenda of her own and she knew best just what words would trigger her husbands paranoia.

And so it went. Dudley was instructed not to pick on Harry where anyone could see or hear. Regretfully, he wasn't bright enough to remember to hide his behavior in public. Petunia witnessed a very public incident in the playground, relayed it to Vernon with manufactured reactions by neighbors, and Dudley was punished for the first time in his life. He was ordered to leave his cousin alone, he AND his friends. Yes, Dudley would be punished for actions by his gang against his cousin. They weren't allowed to touch or speak to him unless specifically requested by Vernon, Petunia or an impartial adult, like a teacher. Infractions would be punished by taking away one of his birthday or Christmas presents. Petunia thought the number was starting to get out of hand and this was the one thing that might make him think before acting. She consoled Vernon by telling him they would spend the same amount; just buy fewer, but better quality, presents. Dudley quickly learned to ignore Harry once his birthday came around and he was short 4 presents. One for beating up Harry, one for beating another kid in the playground, and worst of all - 2 for his having Piers beat up Harry for him. He was especially horrified to realize that his present counter had been permanently reset. He would, forever after, be short 4 gifts!

For several years, Vernon had enjoyed restricting Harry's food and always fixed the boys plate himself before sending him off. This would have been a problem for Harry, except Vernon's baseline portion was so huge, the amount Harry received was actually quite appropriate for a 7 yr old child of his size. His serving only looked small in comparison to Dudley and Vernon's plates. This had worked quite well for everyone involved. Vernon believed he was causing the boy a hardship and had secretly gloated about his small size, while Harry happily left each meal pleasantly full.

After the initial gossip burst, Vernon took great pleasure in adding to Harry's plate extra vegetables and salad - the things Vernon himself liked least. If he had to give the boy more food, it wasn't going to be the **good** stuff. He would hand the plate over with orders to eat everything or else. Like a lot of Vernon's plots and plans, this fell way short of its mark. He never considered the idea that the boy might actually like vegetables and salad and was quite glad to receive extra helpings of his favorites. Since Harry ate at the small table in the kitchen, Vernon never saw how he smiled and hummed as he cleaned his plate.

The other food restriction released had to do with eating between meals. Previously, Harry hadn't been allowed anything between meals. He was still not allowed any sweets, cookies, sugary sodas or salty snacks; but he was allowed to eat all the fruit, leftover vegetables and salad that he wanted. Pretty much anything that Vernon & Dudley weren't interested in eating. Harry was also only allowed to drink milk or water, while Dudley rarely drank things that weren't sugared or flavored. Dudley would even only drink milk with chocolate added. The end result of Vernon's 'hardship plan' had always been that, underneath it all, Harry was much healthier than Dudley. The recent changes only increased the gap.

While Vernon firmly believed he was depriving the child, Petunia was under no such delusions. She was always fully aware that Harry's diet was actually healthier than Dudley's, and knew his portions were correct for his age and size. When Vernon had started restricting the boy's food, she'd had nightmares where Child Services showed up at the door after someone complained that they were starving a child. Vernon never seemed to think about the consequences of things, but luckily he had her to keep an eye on their future. She had always paid careful attention to the boy's diet, adjusting things when Vernon wasn't around. She poured milk down Harry like they owned a cow and made sure there was plenty of fruit in the house and that he ate at least 1-2 servings a day. He was always finding slices of apples, oranges, or pears jammed into his school satchel in the morning. When he arrived home in the afternoon, he would often find a celery stick stuffed with peanut butter and wrapped in a napkin sitting on his mattress next to a small bunch of grapes and a thermos of milk. The last thing Petunia had ever wanted to deal with was the attention & gossip tied to the scandal and health problems of a malnourished child.

It was a relief not to have to hide the extra food anymore. Although Vernon still had no idea how much milk she made Harry drink. She only wished she could get Dudley to eat the same, but he resisted any of her efforts to adjust his diet by throwing fits and Vernon backed him up. At least Harry ate what she told him to when she gave it to him with no fussing. She couldn't help but notice that without Dudley's sugar highs and lows, Harry was a much more even tempered child. She couldn't stand his freakish magic and resented his intrusion in her home, but had to admit he wasn't a difficult boy to have around. His lack of cavities was a blessing. She knew Vernon would go nuts if they had to take the boy in to the dentist for fillings. She made a note to remind herself to pick up some dental floss for Harry to use. She knew, unlike Dudley, he'd use it if she ordered; healthy teeth would keep trips to the dentist to the bare minimum. Anything else and Vernon would become involved.

The neighbors began congratulating themselves as Harry's bruises disappeared and weren't replaced. He didn't seem to have gained any weight, so some of them started making specific remarks about the child being so small in comparison to others, especially Dudley. Petunia was starting to think Harry actually might have a medical condition. She **knew** she fed the boy but it all seemed to go nowhere! Something was using up those calories and it sure wasn't physical growth. She had been wondering for years about his size, but had thought time would take care of things since his diet was reasonable. She'd told herself some children just grew later than others. His being small had worked in her favor in the past, but no longer. In order for her plans to work, every bit of gossip she discussed with Vernon, especially those he heard himself, had to result in a visible change followed by less gossip and smiles from the neighbors, or Vernon would stop taking it seriously. That couldn't happen, not when she had finally received the perfect comments to twist around to convince Vernon that Dudley needed a better diet! Petunia had her work cut out trying to find a way to discuss Dudley's size without getting Vernon's back up over his own.

On a sunny weekend just as spring began, Vernon sent Harry outside to do some post winter cleanup and to prepare for spring planting. The neighbor across the way noticed the lad and after he was out there a bit, he decided to take advantage of a good opportunity. He left his own yard work and headed inside for the telephone, he had a great idea, but a couple more blokes would make the best impact. Beside, then he'd have someone to chuckle with afterwards. A few minutes later he was back out working in his own garden. He made a point of often stopping to stare at Harry working and to glance at his watch. Especially whenever he thought Vernon might be looking out the window. Sure enough, a half hour later he heard his name called and looked up to find two more neighbor men heading his way. He grinned. This was going to be so much fun!

Sunny weekends were Vernon's favorite times. The ground seemed to have dried up decently and he thought he'd head over to the course and see if he could pick up a round or just a few holes. He'd set the boy to work earlier clearing the yard to get ready for the season. As he checked on him through the window, he couldn't help but notice Edwin was in his yard doing the same work as the boy. He also noticed Edwin periodically looking up and watching Harry. Vernon began to feel a bit nervous while gathering up his golf things and changing his clothes. The next time he looked out, he saw two more neighbor men arrive to chat with Edwin. The nervous flutter in his stomach grew and Vernon decided that maybe it was best if the boy came inside and took a break. He thundered down the stairs and out the door. As he crossed the yard, he saw the three men chatting, looking over to Harry and himself and then Edwin pointing to his watch and waving his arms about. The other two turned as one and GLARED at Vernon!

Even a man as dense as Vernon Dursley understood what was happening. They had been paying attention to how long the boy worked in the yard, who knows how long this had been going on, but it wasn't making the boy look bad. Oh no, this was making Vernon himself look bad. The men were talking negatively about HIM! This wasn't just women's gossip; the men really were talking as well. Petunia had been right; things truly did need to change, maybe more than he had previously thought if the men were talking. And Vernon finally became a believer. He never mentioned a thing to Petunia, but from that moment on, Vernon began to consciously try and change his overt behavior toward the boy. He would always hate him, but perhaps it wasn't necessary to display it in any way. All that seemed to do was get Vernon in trouble. Things would likely be less complicated at home if he simply treated him in the way he wanted it to appear to the neighbors. Treating him one way inside the house and another outside, well, the inside had a tendency to slip into the outside and be seen. That wouldn't do. Cool distance; that would become his byword. He would ignore the boy when he could, but otherwise, stay remote, comment only when he had a productive suggestion and let Petunia handle things. She seemed to have a knack for it. Yes, the further away from the boy he stayed, the fewer opportunities for him to look bad.

To alleviate the gossip while she prayed for a growth spurt, Petunia had taken to sending Harry outside with his lunch or after school snacks whenever the weather was slightly decent. His table in the kitchen was shifted more directly in front of the window and the curtain changed to a simple valence that wouldn't block someone peeking over the fence. Whenever neighbors were over for tea, she made certain they could see Harry getting himself a snack. He was oddly obedient and unquestioning when she asked him to make sure people saw him eating. When she had time, Petunia promised herself she would remember to think about that, but first she had to get some weight on the boy or all her plans would be for naught. She didn't remember Lily being scrawny at that age, but maybe his father had been? Perhaps she should just emphasize how much he took after his father. It's not like any of them would know if James had been a scrawny boy or not!

As spring took hold, Harry eventually hit that growth spurt, to everyone's relief, especially Petunia's. Dudley's clothes began to look ridiculous on him. If they were the proper length, they were falling off his shoulders and waist. The ones that fit the closest in girth, were laughably several inches too short in length. Even Vernon, with his new awareness of the neighbor's eyes, blushed to see him with a shirt drooping over his shoulder and a belt wrapped twice around his waist and tied because there weren't any holes that far down on the leather.

"Petunia? Do you have any plans for Saturday?"

"Nothing in particular, was there something you wanted to do?"

"Hmm, well, I was just thinking that you could take the boy and get some clothes for school. There's no reason he can't continue to wear Dudley's old things about the house and when working in the yard. But, I noticed the other day that he's looking somewhat absurd lately. I also couldn't help but see others noticing also, you know what I mean dear?" The last was said with pointed emphasis. "The boy seems to be between sizes on Dudders things, and the way he went ages without growing, he could be this way for a long time. No need to spend much on him, discount shops should be fine. Since they are only for wearing in public, I'm sure he won't wear them out. Would you be able to do that, Pet?"

Petunia stared at her husband in shock, glad she was standing behind his chair so he couldn't see her face. She couldn't believe it had been that easy, she had been prepared for this to take a few weeks. She had settled in to wait for the gossip to percolate. What a relief, she was so tired of being embarrassed to be seen with the child. People will look oddly at a teenager who isn't dressed right, but when it's a small child, they look oddly at the adult in charge. She had never been able to make Vernon see this, but then he was so rarely in public with the boy. He hadn't had to deal with old women shaking their heads and 'tsking' at him!

"Of…of course Vernon, I'll take him first thing. I'll make sure he has some simple things for the playground as well and we can send him off there as soon as we return. Best for him to be seen quickly in his new things before the gossip takes hold. A very, good idea, Vernon. You're so observant and proactive dear!" Petunia patted her husbands shoulder. Vernon smiled smugly and shifted proudly, rattling his evening paper as he went back to reading about those idiot sods complaining that the National Health wasn't good enough. Hmmph! Slackers the lot of them!

She walked back to the kitchen shaking her head. She couldn't believe Vernon hadn't recognized his own belt and old shirt on the child! It was a horrid outfit, but she had been going for shock value. Thank heavens Harry was an amenable child and hadn't fussed much when she forced him to wear it. He did give her a long suffering look as he headed out the door, but he had held his tongue and done as she said. Well, he should be pleased he wouldn't have to wear it again. That would be reward enough. Er, plus the new clothes…

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Harry sat in the park and wondered about his life. Things were really bizarre this year. First Dudley and his gang were actually leaving him alone. It had been weeks since he'd been beaten up. He was finally able to play at school and in the park. Yesterday, one of the kids at school had actually spoken to him during recess! These last months, his family was treating him differently, better, and Harry wanted to know why. He and Aunt Petunia had always sorta gotten along, quietly on the side, as long as nobody else noticed and nothing 'freaky' happened. Now she was being more obvious about it, like not hiding the snacks she gave him.

He also got more food at meals, especially vegetables & salad's, and he noticed that Aunt Petunia often made his favorites of those. That was really something because Uncle Vernon didn't like them, especially brussel sprouts, but Aunt Petunia had told him to just keep quiet about what he liked and didn't like. He was just to keep a calm face and take his plate to the kitchen and say nothing. It was kind of disturbing to see Uncle Vernon grin at him as he filled Harry's plate with brussel sprouts. He knew his Uncle would never be happy about doing Harry a favor. But, he did as he was told. He did love brussel sprouts, they looked like tiny, cute little cabbages. He liked to imagine they were grown by leprechauns & fairies or that he was a giant eating full size cabbages. He noticed Aunt Petunia always had lots of veggies on her plate, she must like them too. Her plate was usually like his, lots of sides and a small amount of the meat or casserole. Maybe this is something he gets from his Aunt?

Harry didn't realize that for the first time in his life, he was identifying with a member of his family. Never before had he thought about a personal trait of his coming from his Aunt, of their having something in common.

Harry finished twisting his swing and picked up his feet and began to spin. Today was the most shocking. Today he had gone clothes shopping with his Aunt, and for the first time ever they bought things for him. He, Harry Potter, had NEW CLOTHES. All the way, inside out, top to bottom, everything new. Nothing that had ever been worn by anyone else; and it all fit. There weren't a lot of them, but he didn't care. They were new, they were his, and with Dudley leaving him be, they would last. The best part was when his Aunt told him they would get more school specific things next autumn when school started again. She didn't choose many nice things for school since there were only a few months left. Most of the new clothes would work for both school and the playground.

He didn't mind wearing his old stuff around the house and yard, especially since she said he didn't have to wear that horrible outfit again. The one with the big belt and the huge shirt where the collar was so big his whole collarbone showed and it kept falling off his shoulder. Dudley's stuff never fit well, but that was worse than usual, and then she sent him outside and told him not to come back until he had walked around the block twice and to the park & back. Sometimes adults just seemed completely mental.

Aunt Petunia had grinned; no she SMIRKED when she remembered that outfit on the way home and told him he didn't have to wear it again. "hmmmm" Harry mused aloud. "That was two days ago… two days after I wear that outfit outside and walk around the block, I get new clothes." He dug his toe in and came to a stop, then began twisting the swing once again. "Uncle Vernon had a funny look on his face when I came out and he looked right at the neighbors and turned red like he was embarrassed. I think I got new clothes because of that outfit."

Harry stared at the sky as his body spun, but his mind stopped on this idea. He remembered being told to make sure neighbors saw him eating. He thought about Dudley leaving him alone and the ideas spun round in his head like the sky. He kept coming back to Uncle Vernon's quick look at the neighbors the other day. Suddenly, his family's behavior clicked into place and Harry knew why.

Many years down the road, Harry will look back and say that this defining moment was when his Slytherin side woke up and stepped forward. He will also say that perhaps being Slytherin is one other thing he got from his Aunt besides a liking for brussel sprouts. And as he says this, he will smirk.

EOC

Edited version uploaded 8-19.


	2. Chpt 2: Laundry Day Honesty

**DISCLAIMER**: JKR ownes all Harry Potter characters and canon storyline. If you recognize it, its not mine.

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**Chapter 2 - Laundry Day Honesty**

Sunday was Laundry Day at the Dursley household. It began before lunch and lasted up to dinner, and sometimes longer. That's if your Petunia or Harry. Vernon & Dudley usually went out somewhere together right after breakfast. They were very careful not to arrive home until shortly before dinner.

Harry spent the time after breakfast reorganizing his cupboard. It was important to him that the space for his new clothes be as perfect as he could make it. He ended up emptying everything out into the hall, thankful that Vernon was gone, and gave the space a thorough cleaning, including washing down the walls and ceiling. After changing his sheets and dragging his mattress back in, he started putting everything back. First went his new clothes, on the shelf that stayed the cleanest. Then his schoolbooks near the door and the old clothes on the shelf that always got dusty. He put his few toys, broken bits Dudley threw out, in the hardest to reach spot furthest in the back, behind the mattress. It wasn't even visible from the door. He'd always put things here that he was worried Dudley would take back or he might get in trouble for having. When he was finally done, he sat on his bed and stared happily at his new clothes on his clean shelf and though about school on Monday. He could hardly sit still he was so excited about being seen in clothes that fit and looked nice.

The clatter from the kitchen reminded him that it was probably time to help with the laundry. He found Aunt Petunia organizing for dinner, poking the thawing roast and taking a pie out of the oven.

"Ah, good, there you are. Could you check the veggie bin in the fridge for me? What do we have left?"

"Um, let's see…. Looks like enough salad greens, a couple tomatoes, cucumber, radishes and some clover sprouts so we've enough for a good green salad. There's enough carrots to cook with the roast & potatoes but not much else, just this little bit of broccoli." Harry held up a small spear.

"That won't do. Remember to add that broccoli to the salad when you make it later. Looks like we'll have to go with tinned or frozen for a second veg." Petunia wrinkled her brow. She forgot yesterday to check the vegetable bin for something besides carrots. She had such a nice meal planned, she wanted to subtly reward Vernon for 'his idea' of buying the boy new clothes. She was always careful to give Vernon a great many subtle and pleasurable rewards whenever he did something she had manipulated. It was important to keep his mood up and his thoughts positive these next few days while he would see the boy in new clothes. Until he became used to it all, he was completely capable of packing them all up on a whim and getting rid of them. Besides, she did like her Sunday dinners to stand out. One final adjustment and the pie settled on the cooling rack and she turned back to Harry. "Wasn't there a sign outside the market yesterday about new spring peas available?"

"Yes ma'am, I remember seeing it on the way home."

"I'll have to try and get up there later and get some. Those would go nicely with the roast & Yorkshires. I've got a jar of pearl onions as well. Try to remind me please if it looks like I've forgotten."

"Yes ma'am. If you want, I could run up there for you later? Once the first loads in and the sortings done, I could run up while you're working on the hand wash." Harry offered.

Petunia stared down at the boy. He'd always done as he was told and helped her with household chores, but she didn't recall him ever offering to run errands for her before.

"Why are you offering?"

"Umm, well, I wanted to help, because of the new clothes and everything else lately. I just wanted to try and do something helpful for you, to pay you back sorta. You know." Harry could feel his face glowing bright red. He knew he was messing things up and not saying it right.

Petunia started to give a knee jerk angry reply about him 'paying back', but something he said caught her attention and she paused and thought for a moment.

"What do you mean, 'everything else'?" The boy couldn't really understand what's been going on, could he?

He blushed redder and then gave his rambling, stammering, halting explanation; completely stunning Petunia in the process.

"All the changes, you know, especially Dudley and his gang leaving me be. It's really nice not to hurt anymore, and the, well, the more food and not having to hide the snacks, the clothes especially too - those are really brilliant - and Uncle Vernon lets me take breaks and have water with me while I'm working in the yard and he doesn't swat me anymore. And well, everything. I know the why wasn't because of me or anyone liking me. I don't mind that it's because of the gossip and looking good for neighbors. I just wanted to do my part. Uncle Vernon always says the best business deals are the ones where both sides get something they want, cuz then both are happy and nobody tries to cancel the deal. You helped me get some things that I've wanted, even if it wasn't done for me, so now I want to help you get what you want. I know that there is something about all this that works for you too, cuz you're not mad when its just you and me, and you would be if you really hated all these changes, so I just thought that maybe I can help you with whatever it is that's working for you, maybe I can help make it work better? I don't know what I could do, but if I can do anything, I just wanted you to know I'm willing to help, to do my part, you know."

He took a deep breath, "Cuz we're stuck, you and me. I know none of you want me here but we're all stuck together until I grow up. I just thought, you know…it doesn't have to be bad stuck, that maybe we could work together someway so it would be ok for both of us until we aren't stuck anymore, when I grow up."

Petunia leaned against the counter, her thoughts reeling. _'How did he …?_' She reached out, grabbed the back of a chair and slid into the seat. _'How on earth could that child have put everything together as he did? How did he know they were linked? Had he also heard the gossip or did he just pull together the pieces? and he KNOWS I'm getting something I want out of this, I can't believe he figured this out. Vernon hasn't figured that out! I miscalculated. I assumed he would be arrogant and self centered and believe the changes were done for his sake, if he thought about it at all. If the boy's noticed I'm fine with the changes, what has Vernon noticed? Have I not been careful enough? _'

She heard a very nervous "Aunt Petunia?"

"Just give me a minute Harry. Maybe you should sit down. It's not bad, just let me think." She gestured to the chair across from her. Harry slowly crossed the floor and quietly took his seat and waited for her to speak.

"It seems you understand a lot more than I thought you did. Before we go any further, it's very important Harry that you promise to not say anything about this to Vernon or Dudley. This includes what you just said about the changes. Most especially what you said about my getting something I want out of them. Do you promise me? Can I trust you to keep your word on this and not say anything? You are benefiting out of this, so I think the very least you could do is to not muck things up for me and possibly put everything back the way it was before."

"Yes ma'am. I won't say anything. I REALLY don't want to muck anything up, that's why I've not said anything before now. Neither of them talk to me anyway so it's not likely anything will accidentally come out in conversation. We don't have conversations so that's real easy. It's always best if I don't say much of anything to them. We pretty much just ignore each other now days and I'm always very, very careful about what I say around them."

"How did you know the changes were because of gossip? Did you hear something from a neighbor?"

"I never heard any gossip, but you wanted me to make sure and have the neighbors see me eating and see me getting my own food, plus when I wore that odd outfit the other day, Uncle Vernon looked first at the neighbors and then he turned red, then 2 days later you took me shopping. They just seemed related. I couldn't help but notice that you were making Dudley leave me alone, so I thought if the other stuff was related to the neighbors, then maybe that was too. Some of them have made him stop when he was beating me up in the park, so I just thought that maybe they talked about it and then they were talking about other stuff. I knew he didn't stop because of me, I knew it had to be something else, but I couldn't figure it out until I thought of the gossip about the other stuff."

"Was this why you were so agreeable about people seeing you eat and wearing that outfit outside?"

"Well, yes, sorta. I hadn't put it all together with the gossip, but Dudley was leaving me alone and I got larger portions at dinner and we weren't having to hide the snacks. So, I thought I should try to be agreeable and all. That's when I remembered about what Uncle Vernon said about business deals & both sides getting something. I didn't know why, but I was getting something and I thought you should too and you weren't asking anything terrible of me. Making sure the neighbors see me eating and that I can get my own food when I want isn't hard or humiliating or anything. I mean, wearing that outfit about the neighborhood was pretty bad, but I know now why you had me wear it, so it doesn't matter. It was… what's that phrase? Oh yea! "A means to an end." Is that the right one? It was a little embarrassing, but it helped me get new clothes, which takes away all the future embarrassments over clothes, so it evens out."

"Looks like you are a much brighter boy that I thought you were. I don't think I've ever heard you say so much at once or something so well analyzed. I wonder why you…" Her voice fell off before finishing the thought. "Well, anyway. Let's get the laundry going. We can talk about the rest of this at lunch. Why don't you go upstairs and bring the hampers down to the basement. Dudley was to put his in the hallway outside his room. If he didn't, just skip his and bring down mine, the one in the bathroom, and gather your own things. I'll get Dudley's later. With all the changes, its best if we keep you out of Dudley's room."

The pair proceeded with their normal laundry day pattern. Gathering and emptying all the hampers and starting the first load of towels from the bathroom. Harry started sorting the rest of the waiting laundry by color and fabric into piles scattered about the floor. Petunia filled the laundry sink and dropped in a small pile of hand wash items. Before she got very far, she realized Harry was standing just behind and to the side, watching her.

"Yes?"

"Do you want me to go to the market and see if they have those peas or any other good fresh veg?"

She thought about it and made a choice. "Yes. That's a good idea. Go upstairs and change into some of your new things and bring me down my pocketbook." When Harry returned, she gave him a 20 pound note and told him to bring home some milk and enough veg for the next couple of days, he could choose the type as long as it went with Pasta Bolognese on Monday and baked fish on Tuesday. She wanted some time to herself to think about what Harry had said upstairs and decide how she felt about the whole thing. As she gently scrubbed the clothes, she wondered if the boy would be of any help and just how she could use him. It was nice to know he appreciated the fact that they were all quite 'stuck' together until he grew up. She snorted. A very apt way of putting the problem indeed!

* * *

Late Sunday morning found the inhabitants of Privit drive enjoying a rare sight. Harry Potter, dressed nicely, running down the street - with a happy face! Curtains twitched, people smiled and phones began ringing.

All of Harry's excitement was poured out as he ran to the small local grocery. So many things had gone well. He was psyched to be seen in his new clothes and his aunt wasn't angry at him when they talked about the changes and how he wanted to help. She even trusted him to go to the market for her. Aunt Petunia would never hand Dudley 20 pounds and tell him to go buy vegetables! Dudley couldn't even manage to get his hamper out in the hall on Sundays; he wouldn't have the first idea of how to pick out vegetables nor could he be trusted with money. Harry's grin broadened. Face alight with pride, he slowed down to walk with exaggerated casualness into the grocery.

After much thought and careful adding of prices, Harry took his selections to the checkout. He had enjoyed wandering through the store and being seen doing the shopping. He spent a good 15 minutes in the produce section dithering back & forth about what to choose. He'd first been excited, but actually being responsible for what the whole family would eat was a bit overwhelming. While nervously unloading his basket, he kept telling himself that he picked stuff he knew Aunt Petunia liked and had served with those mains before. He was so pre-occupied; he didn't notice the woman behind him and the clerk exchanging amused smiles while they watched him oh so seriously empty the basket.

"Hullo there, Harry. I don't see many children buying veg. You must be shopping for your Aunt."

Harry's head jerked up "OH, sorry there" he blushed, "Hello miss. Yes, Aunt Petunia needed some veg for tonight and she asked me to pick up some extra's for the week while I'm here." His face showed the struggle between pride at being capable of the task and his embarrassment for not noticing her.

She grinned. She'd always thought him an adorable little boy. "You don't need to miss or ma'am me, Harry. It makes me feel too old! I'm just Sarah."

Harry smiled back and handed her his money. "Alright, Sarah!"

Sarah finished making his change and began packing up. "Are you walking Harry?"

"Yes ma'am." Sarah paused and looked at him with a prompting smile, "I mean Sarah"

"Ok, here we go." She walked around the counter. "I've separated these for easier carrying. They're all pretty equal weight. Hmmm" as she looked at the young boy and the bags. "Do you want some help Harry? Me brothers out back doin' nothing, he could walk home with you. It'd just take a few shakes, it's no problem."

"No. Thanks, but I can do it. Really! Look." He put a bag of veg in the crook of each arm and cradled the milk bag to his chest. "It's just a couple of blocks and it's not heavy, really! I've got it." He said with an earnest tone and a hopeful look up at Sarah.

She looked at those big green eyes and sighed. "Alright then. See you later Harry."

His smile lit up his face and he strutted carefully out the door.

As it closed behind him, she looked at the next woman in line and said "Never thought male pride started so young!" and shook her head half seriously. They both burst into laughter. "Oh, he looked at me with those big eyes, and I just caved. I couldn't do it to him, send big ole Akiim to walk him home like a baby."

Mrs. Armley laughed "He would have never forgiven you! His male pride crushed before he's even 8."

Sareh piped up "Before he even has testosterone!"

They both almost bent over from laughing so hard.

Mrs. Armley wiped her eyes "I'm glad I ran out of butter in the middle of baking. I wouldn't have missed seeing this for the world! Chloe and Sonja are going to be in hysterics when I tell them about this. You should have seen him over in the produce section, evaluating every bean. Children are so sweet at this age, so proud of every accomplishment."

"And then we grow up and become impossible teenagers." Sarah grinned and tossed her hair.

"You dear, were never quite that impossible." She teased.

"I dunno, me Da says I'm still impossible and I'm 22." They grinned companionably at each other while Sarah made change.

Mrs. Armley glanced around, then said quietly "I have to say, it was wonderful to see him dressed decently for once."

"Yea, don't I know it. Da just about goes spare whenever anyone brings it up. He gets so angry; sometimes I'm surprised he hasn't taken a cricket bat to Vernon Dursley's arse!"

The small store again rang with their laughter as an older man came forward carrying a crate.

"Did I just see what I thought I saw? Was that young Harry Potter?"

"Yea Da. He's lookin good isn't he?"

"Well, well, well. It's about bloody time!" He smiled as he headed over to the produce section to unpack the crate in his arms.

ooOooOoo

Harry was barely half way home when he saw Piers with some of he and Dudley's gang blocking his way and walking towards him. He swallowed hard and thought that maybe he should have had Akiim walk home with him after all.

"Alright there Harry?" A voice came from his right. He turned to see Mr. Briggs walking across his front garden towards him. "Been running an errand to market for your Aunt, have you?"

A relieved boy replied "Yes sir, Mr. Briggs. Aunt Petunia wanted some fresh veg for dinners."

"Well then," He peered into one of the bags, "Looks like you made some good choices, best be on your way lad. Those bags have a way of getting heavier when you stand still." He patted Harry on the shoulder, looked up and then stepped forward. "Hello there Piers, how has your father been? Is he home today? I was thinking of stopping by and having a chat."

As Harry reached the corner, he glanced back. Mr. Briggs winked at him and smiled. Harry smiled in return, and walked on with a returned lilt in his step. Looks like the neighbors were doing a bit more than just gossiping about him.

Petunia was in the kitchen, preparing their lunch, when Harry got home.

"I hope this is ok. They had the fresh peas and I picked out the good ones, just like you showed me last summer. For Monday, I got string beans & mushrooms and some romaine for a cesar salad. I thought maybe carrot salad and broccoli to go with the fish on Tuesday?" His Aunt didn't reply, she just continued unpacking the bags. Harry saw her stop and look at what she was holding. He quickly interjected "They had fresh mozzarella & basil that was on sale and you gave me enough, so I got some of that with more tomatoes. I know how much you like them."

Aunt Petunia tightened her lips and asked for the receipt. Harry handed over the bundle of change and receipt tape.

"Hmm" as she reviewed the tape and checked the change, "Well, you did a nice job at the market, good choices for Monday & Tuesday. Normally I would be upset at you buying something I didn't specify, but I would have bought the cheese & basil myself at those prices, and I do like fresh mozzarella & tomato salad. It will be a nice addition to tonight's dinner and maybe some for Tuesday as well, perhaps then marinated with the last of the cucumber. Yes, this will do, Sunday dinner should be special and now we've several fresh sides. Vernon will be especially pleased at how well and colorful the table looks."

"So, while I'm glad you did it this time, be careful in the future." She caught Harry's surprised look. "Yes, there will be a future trip. You did fine; I'll send you again when I need something small that you can carry." She paused…. "Thank you Harry, this was a help."

Petunia placed the platter of tuna salad sandwiches onto the small kitchen table next to the bowl of grapes already in place. She poured milk for Harry and filtered water for herself. They both sat down, served themselves and began eating.

"The towel load is ready to be folded and taken upstairs. By the time we are done with lunch, another load should also be ready for folding. Then I thought we could start preparing the sides for dinner. We can bounce between the two."

"Yes ma'am."

"I thought about things while you were gone. I'd rather not say too much now. You have said you will keep things to yourself, but you are only 7 ½ yrs old. Yes, I know you don't talk to Vernon or Dudley, but you may start talking to someone else and it could get back to them. I'll tell you more once I'm sure you can keep a secret. I think the best thing to say at this point is that you were right about the changes in the house. Vernon and I noticed the neighbors were watching much more closely and we began to hear negative gossip about Dudley's bullying and about your situation here. We jumped quickly on the bullying issue because that is something I have been thinking about for quite a while. I realize that you were not Dudley's only target and it was time that it all stopped. It's much simpler to have a complete no bullying rule than to try and enforce one that excluded everyone but you. Also, the neighbors were talking about your bruises and I thought it better they totally disappeared."

Petunia smoothed her hands across the table as she spoke. "You see Harry, what I want most is to have a normal, quiet life. This will make more sense to you when you are older, but I want to be normal, just like everyone else. I don't want people to be looking at me oddly because of something that goes on inside this house. Again, you were right; the changes were not made for your benefit. They are what we need to change here in order to have a normal life. The situation with you was not normal and I am simply working towards adjusting the background of our life here to be more in line with what a normal life entails. This has improved your life, and it feels very selfish to be telling you that it's not for your sake but my own, but it's the truth. Since you have been so honest with me, I don't think I should lie to you about that. We've never pretended that we wanted you here, but as you said earlier, we are all stuck. I agree that it would be best if we learned to make the best of the situation. There are things that you are simply too young to understand yet, things I can't tell you until you are older, and when I do, much of this will become clearer to you. But, until then, this is the best I can do. Do you understand?"

She looked up at Harry, defiant, but somewhat nervous. He very solemnly replied "Yes. It's a lot of what I already knew, and I guess I'll just wait until you think I'm ready for the other stuff. Thanks for not lying to me. I'll try not to lie to you."

"Thank you. I think it would be best if we tell the truth to each other, when it's just the two of us. Sometimes, in front of Vernon and Dudley, I may need to lie to you and you may need to do the same. But otherwise, I think if we are going to make this work until you grow up, we will need to be honest with each other. If we are, I think we will be able to defuse any problems before they come to the notice of the others, and that should keep things nice and quiet around here. That is something to the benefit of us both, yes?"

Harry nodded emphatically. Staying out of Vernon and Dudley's notice was one of his major goals in life.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in quiet companionship as they went about the familiar process of finishing the laundry, taking everything back upstairs, and putting Sunday dinner together. Although he has done these tasks with his Aunt dozens of times, Harry felt that somehow, they were working better together than ever before.

EOC

Edited version Aug 23.


	3. Chpt 3: The Truth about School

**DISCLAIMER**: JKR ownes all Harry Potter characters and canon storyline. If you recognize it, its not mine.

* * *

**Chapter 3 - The truth about school**

Harry needed to talk to his Aunt, badly, and the idea made his stomach churn. As he walked down the street, he could feel the paper in his back pocket crinkling. It seemed to set up a rhythm with his stomach. Aunt Petunia had been a lot easier lately, but he still didn't know what she would do about his test. He hadn't meant to do better than Dudley; he just got sidetracked and didn't pay attention. He hadn't even really realized it was a test, he thought they were just math exercises. Maybe Dudley's class hadn't had the quiz or his didn't get sent home? Each class did things differently so it was completely possible that there wouldn't be anything to compare against.

The week had been going so well. Monday had been fantastic. He wore his new clothes and lots of people smiled at him, teachers especially. The boy who had talked to him last week talked to him again at afternoon break and two other people talked to him on Tuesday and again yesterday. They didn't say much, they weren't inviting him to play with them or anything, but it was much more than he was used to. Maybe in a few weeks, he would be able to join some of the groups playing games, and maybe next year he would even have a friend!

Now it was only Thursday and he'd already gone and messed everything up. All he could hope for was that Aunt Petunia wouldn't tell Uncle Vernon. If he promised to not do it again, maybe she'd just sign it and not punish him. He wouldn't forget to miss things again. He still didn't have any idea what to do about the teacher. He was going to expect him to get better marks for the rest of the year, and if he did, then his final grade will go over Dudley's and Uncle Vernon would definitely see that. He was so screwed. The only thing in Harry's favor that day was how Dudley stopped at the park to play with his gang. He wouldn't be home for an hour or so.

Aunt Petunia was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea when Harry came back to tell her he was home and to get his afternoon snack.

"Hullo Aunt Petunia."

"Hello." She got up and poured a glass of milk, removed a cover from a plate on the counter and brought it over to Harry. "You can take it outside if you like or eat it here. It's up to you."

"Here's fine." He dropped his satchel next to the chair as he slid in and pulled the plate over. His fingers moved nervously around the plate. "There's something I need to talk to you about. We had a pop quiz this morning. I need you to sign my test. My teacher sent it home." He heard his aunt sigh as he leaned forward to get it out of his pocket. Full of dread, he slowly unfolded it and handed it to her.

Petunia stared at the paper in confusion. "You got 100 on this… " She had been expecting a paper with a failing mark.

"I'm SORRY… I promise I won't do it again! I wasn't paying attention when the papers were passed out and I thought they were just math exercises. I didn't know it was a test. I'm always prepared with tests, I've planned what to miss and what not to; but I didn't know and I just wasn't thinking and forgot to miss things. I won't do it again, really. I'll pay better attention, I swear."

"What on earth are you talking about? How can you not be paying attention but get 100?" She stared at Harry, and then the rest of what he said sunk in. She saw his mouth opening for more babbling, put her hand up and firmly told him to stop. Petunia looked at the test again, thought about what he said, saw the panic in his face, and all her internal questions about how a child who picked things up so quickly at home could do so poorly in school are answered. The problem is; she doesn't know just what she feels about the picture developing in her mind.

"You've been purposefully doing poorly in school, yes?"

"Of course, I'm supposed to, aren't I?" He started off certain of his answer, but ended with confusion written all over him.

A heavy sigh escaped as she briefly closed her eyes, then caught his with hers and braced herself for the answer she was absolutely certain she didn't want to hear. "Why aren't you? Remember Harry, we decided to be honest with each other just this last Sunday. No one is home but us; Dudley didn't come in with you, did he?"

"No, he stopped at the park to play."

"So then; nothing stopping you from telling me the full truth."

"I don't know why you're asking, you know why." He bit his lip, broke the eye contact briefly then looked back up. "I'm not supposed to do better than Dudley. I know that and I'm usually really careful to do what you want but I just didn't hear the teacher say it was a test. I was thinking about if anyone would talk to me at break today like they did the last 2 days cuz break was soon, and I just thought they were exercises for math. We do them all the time and we don't hand them in or anything, we just talk about them. I thought they were safe so I just, you know, just did them while I was thinking about break." His voice ended on a pleading note, begging for her understanding of what he felt was his error.

Petunia knew she should focus the conversation on the real issue, but she couldn't seem to help herself from putting that moment off for a bit longer. She really truly does not want to discuss Dudley's school performance with Harry. What could be the harm in a few minutes delay? She knew she was chasing a tangent, but she told herself that she needed to know the answers to this question as well.

"You got 100 and you weren't concentrating on the problems? You were thinking about break when you took the test?"

He bit his lip and blushed, but he couldn't think of anything safe to say, so he said nothing.

"Harry. I want an honest complete answer, not just a yes or no. Are these types of problems easy for you and why do you think that's so?"

"Yes ma'am." He spoke slowly, as if she would stop him if he just delayed each word. "They're dead easy." He paused again, and bit his lip. "I learned how to do these around winter holidays."

"But how? Who taught you? You were here all winter holiday."

"Well, I was real bored around then, and I have lots of time in my cupboard, to stay out of Uncle Vernon's way. So, in the cupboard, I spend my time looking in my books. I finished this years math stuff ages ago and a lot of stuff in other books as well. I do the work on paper or in my head so my workbooks will be clean for school."

Since Aunt Petunia hadn't started yelling, Harry began to eat his snack.

Petunia never really thought before about what the boy did when he was in the cupboard. He was out of the way and not causing trouble and Vernon was always happiest when the boy wasn't seen. He **did** spend a great deal of time in there during the winter or bad weather; and of course, every evening after dinner. It made sense that the only way for him to occupy himself was with his schoolbooks. After all, he **had** nothing else. She started to feel a bit better; this was definitely the right line of questioning to follow. Anyone who studied that much would do well. It may not be that Dudley was …, um, well, that the boy was much more…, hmmm, the differences between the two may not be that much. It could just be the amount of time they spent on schoolwork! Yes, that must be it. With a new inner calm and resolve, her delusions tucked back into place, Petunia finally moved the conversation to the other issue.

"Alright then." She smoothed the tablecloth with her hands, a gesture becoming familiar to Harry. "Well, I'm glad to see you were using your time wisely, and it is a good idea to stay out of Vernon's way. Those are choices I cannot fault you for making." Petunia vowed to find something other than schoolwork for the boy to do in that blasted cupboard; then she took a deep breath. "Harry, you don't have to do worse than Dudley. That's why I had you moved into different classrooms this year. I didn't want there to be any direct competition between you two with your marks. The school has agreed to place the two of you in different classrooms for the length of time you attend."

He looked at her doubtfully. "I'm glad we're in different classes, thanks for that, but what will Uncle Vernon do when my grades are better than Dudley's on the term reports? He'll be angry like last year."

It was Petunia's turn to bite her lip. "We did have some scenes last year, didn't we? That was what I was trying to avoid by your being with different teachers. It's harder to directly compare performance when the teachers aren't the same. I was planning to pass off any differences as being about Dudley having a harder teacher than you." She looked carefully at him. "It looks like you've been trying to avoid the same scenes."

He chewed thoughtfully, "But, what if my grades are a LOT better than Dudley's? That couldn't be explained just by having different teachers."

She tilted her head to the side and evaluated the boy across from her. "Just how much better could they be?"

Keeping last Sunday's conversation in mind, and deciding that now was as good a time as any to see if his Aunt really meant it about their working together, he told the truth. "I could get 100 on most all my tests and homework. I've already done the work more than once in my cupboard." He said this matter of factly, without any boasting. If they were going to talk about this and decide on a plan, it was only right his Aunt knew all the facts, well, at least these ones. She hadn't yelled at him yet, he reminded himself.

A voice deep inside of Petunia screamed '_Why is he the smart one?! Why does Lily always win!_' Petunia squashed it quickly. It wouldn't do any good to go down that path again. She and the boy have the same goal in mind here, keeping Vernon calm and the house quiet and in order. She must remember that point. Lily is dead. All she won was her own murder at the hands of a madman, done at the foot of her child's bed. The boy could have gotten high scores all year long, but he kept them low to keep peace in the house. Her house, her home. Peace that she very much enjoyed. She shuddered to think what the holidays would have been like if Vernon had been angry over grades. Petunia focused on that thought, how the boy was trying to work with her.

"I agree, those kinds of scores could not be explained away by different teachers. Plus, on top of the recent changes, it may be more than Vernon could calmly take this term."

"So, we need something in the middle, huh? Or slow changes? Should I match Dudley or would it be ok to do a little better?" He drank deeply and swung his legs, getting into solving the problem. He loved wrapping his mind around problems.

This made Petunia very curious. "Are you able to control your scores so much that you could do that, either one?" If he could, that would give them a lot of choices for now and next year.

"Yes, I've gotten pretty good at it this year. The only hard part now is finding Dudley's scores." He met his Aunts eyes and made a choice. "He usually leaves his backpack downstairs at night. When he does, I get up in the middle of the night and check through his papers, looking for his marks. The hard part is not getting caught or when he takes it upstairs. Sometimes, he throws papers away at school. Luckily, he always does it on the way out the main doors cuz he doesn't want his teacher to see. I just make sure I watch him leave, and if he throws anything away, I wait until everyone's gone and pull it out."

He looked up to find his Aunt staring at him. She didn't look mad so he continued. "Once I know what he got, I just make sure I get around 5 points less then that on my next paper in each subject. It's not hard at all. The teacher usually has about the same number of questions on each test and on our graded homework. I spent a bunch of nights figuring out how many to get right for each number of questions to end up with the different marks. So, before I start each test, I count the number of questions and I know how many to get right and how many to miss so I can come out below Dudley. It's not as hard as it sounds because I know the exact mark I want going in. I only have to memorize the numbers for that mark."

This was much more involved than she'd thought. "Doesn't that take some advanced math? How did you figure out the numbers?"

He nodded, "Yea, it was hard math to figure out. At first I was just guessing, using scores on our old papers. You know, if the paper had 10 questions on it and Dudley got 7 right and the teacher marked it 70, or if the test had 25 questions and I got 19 right and the mark was 79. But that didn't always work right, because I didn't have numbers for every mark and number of questions pair. I would have to guess and sometimes I guessed wrong. I thought about asking my teacher how he figured the mark scores, but I didn't want him getting any ideas about me. Then I thought of asking the librarian. She doesn't really talk to the other teachers, they don't like her, so I thought she would be safe and wouldn't gossip. She said it was advanced math and likely too hard for me, but she said it's not like it's a state secret or anything and there's no harm in me knowing. She told me how it worked and wrote some examples on paper for me. I didn't know the marks were percentages; they never put the percent sign on the papers. Once I knew that, it wasn't too hard. I remembered that being in one of the old books, so I looked it up, read how it worked, then I did all the figuring I needed. It took quite a while, but now I've got my lists and it makes matching Dudley a lot easier. Especially since the teachers tend to use the same number of questions over and over and Dudley's grades don't change much."

"So you used a calculator?"

"No, there isn't one I can get to, and I don't know how to use one anyway."

"But that's division Harry; to do division, you have to know how to multiply."

"Oh that's not hard. The librarian explained it to me. It's just a shorthand way of writing or talking when you have to add the same number up lots of times." Harry started to wave his arms about and poke his fingers up as he talked. "Like if you've got a bunch of those packets of cupcakes with 2 cakes in each packet, and you want to know how many cakes you have total. You want to add them up by 2's. If every packet has 2 cakes and you have 3 packets; that's 3 times 2 which is really just adding 2 three times over; 2 plus 2 plus 2. That's not hard at all. I'm really good at adding lots of numbers. I play with adding prices up at the grocery store while we're shopping."

She walked in a daze over to the fridge and began to pour him another glass of milk. "The librarian... I suppose the cupcake example is hers?"

"Uh huh." He nodded. "She had a packet sitting there and she drew a picture showing 3 packets. It made lots of sense. I can see why someone would want a shorter way to write the problem when the numbers get bigger. When its just adding two up three times, that's not much, but it would get really long if you had to write it 87 times. Two times 87's much shorter and easier to mess with. It was really clever of someone to come up with that."

Petunia's daze didn't seem to be clearing. "Yes, it is clever. But, that's just knowing how it works, actually doing its harder. You have to memorize everything, like 7 times 2."

"You would if you had a test, but this was just for me and the book has a chart. I looked up most things on the chart." He shrugged. "I just had to know how it worked and how to put the numbers together. The Librarian explained how it worked and the book showed me how to put it together. It had lots and lots of examples that showed all the steps. It didn't matter how long it took me to do the steps or if I made mistakes and had to redo things. I had lots of time."

She sat the glass down in front of him, an idea fighting thru the daze. "Old books, you said you looked up how to do it in the old books. What old books?"

He got an odd look on his face and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I've got some other school books from other years. Ones the school threw out cuz they were all messed up. You know, torn up covers and pages missing and backs broken? They throw those away and I sometimes pick them up and bring them home to look through when I'm bored. I don't really have much else to do in my cupboard and I've gone through my years books so I've been going through the others. I've gone pretty far on the maths cuz its fun to work out the problems and I needed it to figure out the marks. The other books are mostly just reading stuff, but the quizzes at the end are sometimes fun."

"What do you do if you have questions?"

He shrugged again and looked down, then finally answered softly. "I sometimes ask the Librarian stuff. She's nice and I like how she explains things." He looked up, pleading. "Please don't get her in trouble!"

She sighed, the thought crossed her mind that she was doing entirely too much of that lately, especially around the boy. "I'm not angry at her for answering a child's questions, Harry. It is a school, that's what she's there for and what we pay her to do. Besides, if she's able to explain multiplication and division to a seven yr old in a way that works, the school is lucky to have her. The last thing I'd do is muck things up for her. Anyway, it's like she said, it's not a state secret nor is it a crime to explain Math." She tilted her head, curious. "Could you show me one of those old books? One you're looking through now?"

He paused; then spoke slowly "Okay. Are you going to take it away?"

"No Harry, I'd just like to see it please."

He got up and brought back a book from his cupboard. It was rather a mess like he'd described. She opened the tattered cover, and sure enough, the front flyleaf said 'DAMAGED DISCARD' in big red stamped letters. It seemed to be a science text for 4th graders.

"How can you read this Harry? First graders can usually only read very simple words. How did you learn to read big words like this?"

"Well, you taught me." In a tone that implied she had just asked the silliest question in the world.

Petunias head jerked in shock. "What! When did I ever?" she spurted out quite huffily.

"Always. You're always pointing out words to me when we're doing stuff. Chores & all." He caught the look on his Aunts face and decided that detail was needed, even though he didn't understand how she could have forgotten. "When we do the laundry together, you've taught me to read the labels so I can sort things. Dry Clean, Hand Wash, Machine Wash and then the fabrics so I can put the same fabrics together, like the Cottons and Polyesters. When we're doing the food shopping, you've taught me how to read the packages & tin labels so I can pick out the right ones when you send me off to get something for you. You know, telling the difference between the tins of diced and stewed tomatoes, or the different kinds of corn or green bean cuts. It's the same here at home when you send me to the pantry to get a tin for you. Whenever I got it wrong, you've always shown me the letters and words so I could find the right stuff the next time."

His voice became very earnest as he tried hard to make her remember. "You started teaching me to read years ago Aunt Petunia. You taught me how to count and add too."

The boy was right. She did start teaching him years ago how to read the labels on clothes and packages. But she'd never thought of it as, well, **reading**. It was just him learning things so he could be more of a use around the house. They're just labels! What does reading labels have to do with reading books?

When Harry gave her an odd look and replied, she realized she'd accidentally said the last thought aloud. He told her "Well, words are words. Once you taught me how to put letters together into words and how to sound out the longer ones, they're just more words like the ones on the labels. Books are easier because the words there are ones that people actually say all the time instead of the ones on labels. They're more familiar and you've got whole sentences to help you figure out what the word could be. I mean, nobody ever walks around saying things like machine wash, stewed Italian style or polyester in normal conversations. Learning to read books was much easier than labels."

She looked at the book in her hands and again tried to tell herself that perhaps it was simply opportunity. Maybe if she'd spent more time with Dudley long ago teaching him to read… but she did do that. She had read story books to him during the day and before bed until recently when he wanted her to stop. She'd managed to teach him his letters before he started school, but it hadn't been easy. Sounding out words had become a battle she soon skipped, not wanting to spoil bedtime cuddles. She remembered how easy it was to teach Harry his letters and how to sound out words. She would show him the word on the shopping list, have him say it, and he would run off quite happily to find the right package, like it was his favorite game. She sighed. She supposed to him it was a game, a sort of scavenger hunt. When he'd come back and hand her something, if she didn't say anything and put it straight in the cart, he'd look like he'd won a prize. Why wasn't it her son who was the smart one? Why did the boy have to inherit **that** from Lily and her Dudley got his brains from his father's side?

She'd been down this road before; she spent years on it and doesn't want to go there again. It was of no use comparing her life to Lily's anymore. Lily didn't have one, and as for her boy, well, one should sooner find fault with the sun for rising than fault a child for the intelligence he was born with, or without. It was no more Harry's fault than it was Dudley's, and blame wouldn't change anything. There was nothing to be done but work with what's at hand. That's what her father would always say. Mold what you've got. If you're careful, you could make more out of it than a sloppy person who started with something better. If she considered what the boy would eventually have to deal with, maybe it was best he got the Evans smarts. He'd need them just to stay alive in that freaky world of his around those people. But, oh… how she wished her Dudley had gotten them as well.

She was startled from her thoughts by a small, careful voice "Aunt Petunia? Did I muck things up?"

She replied softly "No Harry, no you didn't. Why don't you go put this back before Dudley comes home." She watched him slide out of his chair and leave the room. Time to get back on task, all of this mess about his current level; she could deal with that next week or over the summer. Today's critical problem was this terms grades and Vernon's reaction. She plucked a pen out of the small stationary caddy she kept on the table for her lists and signed the boy's test. She gazed out the window and made a plan for the next few days.

Harry returned and put his signed test back into his school satchel. "What should I do now? The teacher knows I can do better. He said he feels I've 'turned a corner' and now I'm ready to work at my true ability -- whatever that corner stuff means. He said he expects to see good work from me in the future. I don't know what the best thing is to do. I don't want him watching me all the time and wondering why I'm not doing well, but I don't want to make Uncle Vernon angry."

Petunia nodded "We need to be careful here. I don't want to decide too quickly and box ourselves into a corner that we can't get out of. There isn't much time left before Dudley comes home, so I think we should just have a plan for tomorrow and then we will work out our full plan before Monday. Agreed?"

He sighed in relief. "Yes, definitely."

"Ok. There shouldn't be anything graded in math tomorrow since you had a test today, but just in case there is, don't get 100 again. Aim for in the 90's. You will have to judge how high to go based upon how many questions there are and the similarity to what was on that test today. If it's mostly questions like the test, you obviously have to do similar work. If it's different, you can do less. For now, in your other subjects, keep doing what you were doing. It's ok to go up a few points closer to Dudley. You don't need to stay so far down. I'm going to be thinking on this and we will talk about it on Sunday while doing the laundry. Everyone will be out of the house and we will have time between loads to work out the details. I'm thinking that we may end up staggering your grades. Perhaps have you do a point or two over Dudley in just one subject; something to feel out the situation for next year, hmm? I think we have adjusted Vernon just about as much as we can in regards to you for a while. It would be best to let things sit and settle in and let him become completely comfortable with your situation. We don't want to trigger any setbacks."

The boy nodded; relief apparent on his face. "Yes, ma'am. That sounds good. Thanks for your help, and for not yelling at me. I'm sorry I make things difficult, I'm really trying not to."

"I know you are Harry, and that point does count with me. Manipulating your grades like this, I know you did it to make things more peaceful here in the house. You were trying to avoid trouble, not cause it. Mistakes happen. I think it's better if we work together on this issue instead of you trying to do it alone. I have a bit more experience in plotting than you do at this point. Tonight in your cupboard, I'd like you to put together what you have on Dudley's marks this term. Seeing where he stands will help me make our plan."

Petunia actually smiled at Harry. "You should go change out of your school clothes. It's a nice afternoon; you can spend some time in the back garden if you don't want to go to the park."

A few minutes later, as Petunia was making another cup of tea, she noticed the boy standing out in the back garden in Dudley's cast-offs. He was gazing around as if looking for something to do. After a few moments of just standing there, he headed off to the back corner and started weeding. She shook her head. She really needed to find something else for that boy to occupy his time other than schoolwork and chores.

She thought about what he'd done. All that time spent in his cupboard staying out of the way, truly a situation of 'out of sight, out of mind'. Who would have thought he was working on either schoolwork beyond his grade or a plan to look dumb at school? She couldn't help a small smile as she pictured him sneaking around behind Dudley to get a look at his marks. The truly surprising part was that he somehow maintained a mask in front of his teachers and none of them saw past it to the bright child fooling them all. She'd known there was something odd between the abilities displayed at home and his marks at school, but even she'd had no idea of the complete picture. She wondered if she did now.

She stared out at the garden, watching him lay on his stomach, cheek resting on folded hands as he appeared to be gazing into the flowers against the fence. None of what he'd done was like Lily at all. Lily would have done her best and the hell with everyone else. She was terrible at keeping secrets, every thought she had passed over her face and out her mouth. No, it wasn't like Lily, not one bit. Petunia refused to think past this thought; refused to think of whom his actions reminded her.

She suddenly got up and reached for the telephone. She hadn't yet spoken to Elizabeth about the Perkins new car.

EOC

Revised version Aug 24.

Chapter 4 - Shocking Moments;


	4. Chpt 4: Shocking Moments

**DISCLAIMER**: JKR ownes all Harry Potter characters and canon storyline. If you recognize it, its not mine.

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**Chapter 4 - Shocking Moments**

That Saturday, Dudley Dursley received one of the great shocks of his young life. It seems that on Friday, his mother had gone to his school and spoken with his teacher. Now she and his dad were all in a fuss over his grades. His mum was going to stop at the school every Friday afternoon and pick up copies of his marks from the week and they would "talk" about them. Worse yet, his mum had insisted that he spend an hour every day on school stuff. Studying, reading books, doing homework, and even doing old homework to get right what he missed! Who did old homework? What's the point? He wondered if he stretched out how long it took for him to do his new homework, if he would still have to do the old stuff. He couldn't believe she wanted him to go back and start redoing everything from the very beginning of the year. She even bought flashcards! She said she might even get a new blank workbook for him to fill out so they could see how he improved after studying. He tried to get his dad to make her stop, but everything that usually worked, failed. Dad kept going on about how he'd need to get decent marks to get into his old school; if Dudley kept going on the way he was, they wouldn't let him in and then his dad would be ashamed and embarrassed in front of his friends. His dad had finally turned all red in the face, shook his finger at Dudley and told him his grades had better improve or else. Then he stomped out of the house to play golf, and he didn't take Dudley! His mum had stood there with an odd smile on her face. It was sort of a scary smile, one he didn't remember seeing before. He was spooked just thinking about it. She must be loosing it; he could have sworn he heard her mumbling about mold.

Next she told him his second bedroom looked like a junk shop and he had to spend half the day tidying it up. Everything had to be put away and he had to get rid of some of the stuff in there. She wanted three piles in the hallway; stuff for the attic; things to be fixed; and stuff to throw away. He couldn't go out to play until she said he had enough stuff in each pile. She kept going through the piles and asking him why things were there, especially the attic & throw out pile. He wasn't sure, but he thought she was taking some of the stuff away. She kept saying weird things like anything he put in the throw out pile wasn't his anymore. Like he'd throw out anything he still wanted, Jeez! At this rate, he may never get out of the house!

This was the worst day ever. His dad had better come up with something good for Sunday.

Alternatively, for his cousin Harry, the days since Thursday had passed easily. Friday morning, he'd left all his notes on Dudley's marks for the year on his bed for Aunt Petunia to look over. Just like she'd said, there wasn't any graded work that day in Math. When he'd gotten home, he found he & Dudley's snacks on the counter, glasses of milk in the fridge, and a note that said Aunt Petunia had gone to the school to talk to Dudley's teacher.

On Saturday morning, she warned him to make himself scarce, things would be happening that would make Vernon and Dudley upset and it would be best if he weren't around. Harry quite happily spent the day at the park and the local library. To make the day even better, he wore some of his new clothes. Aunt Petunia had packed a lunch for him so he didn't need to come back until it was time to help with dinner. And best of all, on that Sunday, he and his Aunt worked out their plan for the rest of the school year.

Aunt Petunia told him that since Dudley's marks had fallen from first term, she'd had the perfect excuse to contact his teacher and ask for weekly reports. She would then give him a list each Sunday showing every single score Dudley got in all subjects for the past week. He wasn't going to have to find them on his own anymore. She said this would be safer than him sneaking around. Less chance he would be caught rooting in the trash or inside Dudley's backpack. If this worked out, they would do the same thing next year.

They decided to stagger Harry's grades somewhat, but no major changes this term. Next year they would do more, but this term would just be minor changes. One subject would match Dudley as close as Harry could manage; one would exceed by no more than 4 points; and the rest would be less, within a range of 2 to 5 points. Since he had received that 100, Petunia felt they had to choose Math as the subject where he would perform the best. She didn't really like that; she said it would go over better with Vernon if it was something else. But, she didn't think they had a choice. The teacher would surely find it odd if his Math score dropped after that 100, only to have something else rise in its place. No, it would be best if he just thought Harry had gotten better in one subject. She left the others up to him to pick out, but asked that they review his progress every week on Sunday, just in case there were any issues.

The last 2 weeks of the school year they may need to juggle things around a bit to make the term & yearly averages come out right. Aunt Petunia said she'd show him how to do the average math so they could keep what she called running averages for both he and Dudley. She'd also try to get a feel for what final grades Dudley would receive, and Harry would do whatever was possible to make his final grades line up according to their plan. He might have to make some major adjustments at the end, but hopefully not, if everything went according to their projections. He liked that new word, projections. He wrote it in his word notebook.

All in all, he was extremely happy. His aunt had lived up to her word. He was honest with her and he hadn't gotten in trouble for it. She was honest with him, and things had happened like she said they would. She had come through for him and helped with a plan. They were working together. He didn't fool himself into thinking she liked him any better, but they were trying to make things go easier for them both and it seemed to be working so far.

This year there weren't going to be any fights, smacks or being locked in the cupboard at the end of the school year, not like last year. Uncle Vernon wouldn't have anything to be mad about and Aunt Petunia had said she would handle things if he got upset about the math grade. She thought keeping the score so close would stop him from being angry, especially since it would only be one subject. Four points could easily be attributed to different teachers plus Dudley's recent drop in grades. Petunia felt she could really milk that one for a lot of mileage with the end of term grades. She'd keep an eye on his temper and Harry may be able to move it to 5 or 6 points.

The next week passed much like the previous one. Harry was amused as he listened to Dudley whine about studying every day, but it seemed to be making a difference. The grades he saw on the following Sunday during lunch were better than they had been for a long while. It was going to be nice to be able to do better in his subjects this next week. That should make his teacher happy and hopefully he wouldn't try to work with him so much anymore. He gave Aunt Petunia his scores for the last week and she was very pleased at how close he'd come to their targets. They then put everything away and had a nice chat over the last of lunch about nothing much in particular.

Harry got his shock when they went back down into the basement to work on the laundry. He was pulling a load out of the dryer when he heard his Aunt say words he had never heard before towards himself.

"Harry, come over here a moment. I have something I want to give you."

He looked over in surprise and saw his aunt pulling a box out from under the stairs. He walked over and knelt next to her, looked down at the box and everything froze. It was as if his world had gone still. The words "Lily's Books, child / pre-teen, normal" were written on the side facing him.

Petunia saw that Harry had gone completely white; frozen in place simply staring at the box. In confusion, she looked down, following his gaze, and saw the words. Just her dumb luck; she should have turned the box around the other way. She'd wanted to explain first.

"I guess the cats out of the bag on this. Yes, these books were your mothers when she was a little girl. She left them behind when she moved out and married your father. I was the one who packed up our childhood home when our parents died. Lily, she didn't come. Mother had already given her several things after she married and the house, well, it was damaged a great deal so there wasn't really a lot left. I found an undamaged bookcase in the closet of her old room with these books and I packed them up and brought them home. I thought I'd give them to her next time I saw her." Aunt Petunia gave a sort of rueful sad smile and put her hand on top of the box. "We'd had an argument about the death of our parents and it turned out that there wasn't a next time. Life's funny that way sometimes Harry."

"Around a year and half ago, I gave this box to Dudley. I was trying to interest him in reading and I remembered there being some classic children's stories in here, as well as some easy picture books for beginning readers. He looked at the top few and then said he wasn't interested in 'Girly' books and never looked again. I think he really just wasn't interested in books or reading. He still isn't, especially chapter books. Most of these are probably still too advanced for him, but I guess they won't be too much for you." She looked over at Harry. "I know that, by rights, this box should have been yours from the day you arrived. But, I think I was still just too angry at her then. Part of me said that if she wanted them, she'd had plenty of time to go back to the house to get them. She left them when she moved out and didn't come for them when the house was cleared; so I told myself they were abandoned, not really yours. Finders Keepers. Anyway, I'm giving them to you now. These are yours. You may read them in your cupboard or outside, anywhere you wish."

Harry looked at the box, almost afraid to touch it. "What about Dudley? Won't he remember this as being his? He's always really possessive about his stuff, even if he doesn't use it anymore."

"Yesterday when you were out, one of the things I had Dudley do was go through his second bedroom and get rid of things he didn't want anymore. This box was one of the things he got rid of. I told him anything he put in that pile wasn't his anymore. It was mine again and I could do what I liked with it. Dudley will have nothing to say about it. I doubt he will even notice. I'd recommend putting the box in the back of your cupboard and just bringing out books when you want to read. He's paid no attention to the individual titles; I doubt it will ever occur to him that the ones your reading could be from this old box."

"These are your books now and I will back that up with Dudley and even Vernon, if the issue ever comes up. You have been very helpful and cooperative these months. I appreciate that, and also how you have been taking care of the new clothes I bought you. I noticed you cleaning out your cupboard the next morning and you never wear the good things to the playground or in the garden. I recognize that you are doing your best to stay out of the way and not cause me any trouble. You can think of this as a reward for good behavior, a lifetime of birthday presents, or simply me righting an error and getting rid of an old guilt that's been hanging over my head. I suppose in a way all of them are true."

She stood and picked up the box. "I'll carry this up and put it on your bed. After you're through folding that load, you can spend some time figuring out where to put the box in your cupboard. Since the only thing Dudley may recognize is the box itself, I'd recommend not putting it anywhere near the door."

She walked up the stairs leaving a stunned and shocked boy sitting on the cement. He'd had no idea, none at all, that there was anything of his parents in this house. He had a strong urge to run upstairs, open the box and read every single book in it immediately. He reminded himself how that would be a mistake in many ways. First, if he didn't help with the laundry, it would make his Aunt angry, especially since she had tried to do something nice for him and gave him something of his mothers. She'd then likely never give him anything again if he behaved so poorly! Second, if he read them too quickly, then there wouldn't be anything to look forward to anymore. He decided then and there to savor each and every book. Make them last. Maybe he should save most of them for the summer. With all the changes, he probably wouldn't have as much outside work as before and it would be great fun to be able to sit under a tree somewhere and read one of his mum's books.

Harry heard his Aunt's footsteps in the hall above him and jerked back to the moment. He popped up, grabbed the dry load and took it over to the table and started folding. The sooner he got this done, the sooner he could open the box.

Twenty minutes later found him sitting on his bed, pulling back the last flap of cardboard. He burst out laughing. The top book was Anne of Green Gables. No wonder Dudley wouldn't ever read any of them. He wondered what hand guided his aunt in packing these books so that the one most guaranteed to repel her son was on the top. He didn't care that most people thought of it as a book only for girls. He was sure it would be more fun to read than torn up schoolbooks. He looked at the ones around it and found the rest of the Anne series, under it were more books by the same author. These ones about a girl named Emily in New Moon. His mom must have liked this author a lot if she bought all her books. They must be good. He felt a lot better about his decision to read them no matter how 'girly'. Maybe he'd start reading in the order he found them in the box. It would probably be easier for the first ones. It would give him time to decide what to do with the books he'd read. He looked around the cupboard and couldn't see an obvious place to keep them. If he put the read books back in the box, he wouldn't be able to get to the new ones easily. He sat for a few moments then shrugged and decided to think about it later. He looked down at the cover of the first Anne book, a red haired girl standing in a field with a house in the background. Hmmm, these might be best read in the cupboard after dinner. He'd save for summer the ones he wouldn't be embarrassed to take to the park. It might not be a good idea for a guy without any friends to be reading these kind of books where just anyone could see.

He put Anne down on his pillow and then lay across his bed on his belly to look into the hole at the end of the cupboard. The hole stretched back under the stair landing. It was where he always put things he didn't want messed with. It was hard for anyone but him to get back there. Uncle Vernon & Dudley were just too big. He looked back & forth between the opening and his box. _The box is too tall, but maybe if I lay it on its side_…. He lay the box down, looked back at the hole and grinned. The box slid easily off his mattress and over into the opening. It fit perfectly. Only the top flaps showed, and anyone looking at it would probably think it was something Uncle Vernon had back there all along.

With everything settled, he gave a happy little sound of anticipation, patted the book on his pillow and headed back to the basement to finish helping with the chores.

Aunt Petunia made one of Uncle Vernon's favorite casseroles for dinner, and Dudley's favorite pudding. They were celebrating the improvement in Dudley's grades. Harry was just happy everything was back to normal. Vernon and Dudley had both been in really bad moods last weekend and Vernon had been grouchy all week until they had Dudley's new marks on Friday. Harry didn't want to even think about what would have happened if Dudley hadn't done better. Wash up went quickly and soon Harry was back in his cupboard with the door closed. He lay back on his mattress and held his book. He was finally alone.

The box. Thoughts and feelings had been spinning round inside him and he had been pushing it all back until he was by himself. This afternoon, he had been so excited to have his mum's books, and that feeling dominated everything else. As the day went on, things began to change. Now, he was confused and completely overwhelmed by all the conflicting emotions. There was happiness, some anger, and a lot of sadness. He wanted to cry; laugh and jump up and down; and a part of him wanted to punch Dudley and yell at his Aunt. There've just been so many changes these last couple of months and now this…

He rolled over onto his side facing the box. He didn't know what to feel, what would be the best. He could be mad she never gave them to him before; he could be mad that she gave books that should have been his to Dudley. But, he sighed to himself, it would be best if he choose not to be mad. Being mad wouldn't help. She didn't have to give them to him today. She didn't have to give them to him ever. She could have thrown them out or sold them to a rubbish shop or just put them in the attic. He would never have known. He suspected that the whole reason she had Dudley clean his second room was just to make him get rid of this box without any fuss. So Harry could have them. And now he has them. Dudley never messed with them, they aren't damaged. They're now his and they once were his mothers. _Mine_, he said to himself.

He'd thought it was a good feeling, finally having his own clothes that fit. But now, this was something else. He, Harry Potter, actually owned something. Something that mattered; something real. Something from his mother. For the first time, Harry had a true possession that he actually cared a great deal about.

He looked over at the box tucked into the back of his cupboard, and smiled at the well earned wages of cooperation.

* * *

The rest of the school term passed quickly for Harry. He spent less time with the advanced schoolbooks and more time with his mum's books. Although he could work his way through chapter books for older kids, he wasn't a fast reader by any stretch of the imagination. He quickly realized that he wouldn't have to worry about saving any books for the summer. He would likely still be reading the Anne series. Even though they were supposedly for girls, he found himself really enjoying Anne's world and would daydream about what it would be like to live on an island with lots of open space around you and beaches and groves of trees, and a best friend who lived through the woods.

He still didn't have a friend at school, but as time went on and Dudley's gang never bothered anyone who spoke to Harry, he was included more and more by the other children. He had fun playing, but everyone already had their friends and they didn't seem eager to let him permanently join one of the groups. He hoped that maybe next year they would see that Dudley was really going to leave him be. He hadn't done anything freaky in ages, so he didn't think that was it.

Dudley's grades continued to improve and Harry's moved right along in tandem. Per he and Petunia's plan, Harry had first maintained a high math score, then allowed it to fall gradually. Petunia picked out a point just below where she thought Dudley's average would max out and Harry held his average grade there while they waited for Dudley's average to reach Harry's. His Aunt felt it might look odd if his score bounced up and down too much. They would be better off waiting until they knew where Dudley would end up and then just adjusting upward at the end for the 4 points. She reasoned that nobody looks too closely at an improvement.

Petunia had taken to making her and Harry's favorites for Sunday lunches as a small celebration of how well everything was going. The neighbors were being friendly, gossip seemed to have fallen off, although she kept hearing odd comments about the boys glasses of all things, and Dudley's grades were making he and Vernon happy. Her world was finally feeling more normal and peaceful than it had in years. Petunia congratulated herself on her plan and also for bringing the boy into things. It had come in handy a few times, being able to have him do something she needed at a specific time. Although he would immediately follow her directions, he liked to have it explained to him on their Sundays. She found she didn't mind this, it was actually enjoyable to go over her plans with him and explain how his action caused various effects she needed. She found herself explaining more and more of her various schemes to the boy. After all, he had shown himself capable of keeping his mouth shut and of helping her where he was able. It was a good thing nobody else was ever home on Sundays, the laughter and smiles would have attracted way too much attention.

Vernon himself was in such excellent spirits, due to Dudley's improving grades and the atmosphere in the house, that he forgot to glare at Harry whenever he saw him. Harry was rather hoping that the glare would stay gone, but he wasn't betting on it. Vernon's good mood occasionally expanded to his giving Harry a larger portion of the "good food", much to Petunia's surprise. Harry, to his surprise, enjoyed the extra helpings and filled out a tiny bit before the end of term.

Everything looked like it was going perfectly until the last 4 weeks of school. Instead of continuing to rise, Dudley's math score began to fall again. Then Aunt Petunia found they had missed some scores when calculating Harry's math average for his final grade. Unless something drastic happened, Harry would now exceed Dudley's score by 9 points. Harry immediately began to daydream during Math; failed a few tests and did poorly on others; lost his homework twice, and gave the appearance of a complete mess up. His poor teacher was in a panic. He would hold Harry in to chat during recess and gave him extra attention during class. They decided they'd gone a bit too far when the teacher called to talk to Petunia about Harry's sudden drop in a subject he had shown such improvement in previously. Luckily Dudley's drop had settled and they were able to calculate a new target average for Harry and he once again returned to doing decent work in Math. Much to his teacher's distress, he didn't reach his earlier levels but the man consoled himself that at least he wasn't doing failing work anymore and his other subjects were fine.

Not being a teacher herself, it never occurred to Petunia that a child Harry's age rarely drops performance in just one subject. When a young child has a problem effecting schoolwork, it usually affects everything equally, except sometimes in a favorite subject. She had no idea of the type of notes the teacher was putting into his file on Harry and just how much he was now watching the boy. Indeed, had she know the man was lobbying to have Harry placed into his friends class next year, a teacher well known for going the extra mile with his students, she might have panicked enough to actually transfer the boy.

Finally, the last day of school arrived. Dudley was off to a party at Piers home, so Petunia and Harry had a little celebration of their own. They had done all they could, and now they just had to wait for the final marks to be mailed. By their calculations, everything should have come out according to plan. They hoped.

* * *

Harry laid down his trowel and looked at the hole he had dug. Yes, that looked right. He reached over into the flower flat and pulled out a plant, carefully removed it from the seedling pot and replanted it in the flower bed. He scooted down and redid the same action 3 times to fill the next bit with the small plants in a rough triangle formation. He looked to the right and realized he was almost done. They were going to have some plants left over. 15 minutes later Harry was finished and heading over to where he stashed the jug of ice water Aunt Petunia had given him. He reached under the bush and sat down to drink. Working in the garden was much more pleasant this year. Uncle Vernon was more relaxed. Where before he would have ordered Harry to have everything planted in a couple days, now he just told him to work on it some each day and have it done by the end of the week. As long as Harry kept the plants still in the flats alive, he could work at his own speed. Aunt Petunia had helped him figure out where to put the flats so that they got the right amount of sun or shade then she had marked with little sticks where she wanted the flowers to go. Sometimes, when everyone was gone, she would come out and plant with Harry. It was actually fun and Harry enjoyed himself. He liked reading the little plastic stakes in the plants that told what each one liked. He kept one stake each for his favorites so he would know what they were.

"_**Hello Harry"**_

He looked over, tracking the hissing voice, and found one of his snake friends peeking out from the newly planted flowers. She was a pretty garden snake that lived in a burrow in the back corner of the garden. She often tracked him down for a chat when he was alone outside.

"_**Hello Sybil. Are you enjoying the sun today?"**_

"_**Yes, it is nice and warm; I wish I had a warm rock to sleep on. I like the smell/taste of these new plants."**_

She flicked her tongue out into the air. Harry recognized the snake variant of the word smell that actually meant smell by tasting the air. He leaned over and sniffed deeply just above the plants.

"_**Hmmm Yes, I agree."**_

"_**You have been out here several days, Harry. Why are you not in your human school?"**_

Harry lay down on the grass so they could talk face to face.

"_**This time is called summer holidays. We don't have school again until autumn."**_

"_**Why not?"**_ Her hisses took a quizzical tone. _**"Don't you still have more to learn about being a human? Why stop learning for so long?**_"

"_**I don't know. This is just the way humans do it. I'll ask my Aunt, maybe she knows."**_

"_**Are the other humans still being nice?"**_

"_**Aunt Petunia is still being nice. I don't know if I'd say Uncle Vernon and Dudley were ever nice, but they aren't being mean to me. We pretty much ignore each other and that suits me perfectly. My Uncle is being more pleasant, which feels strange."**_

"_**Where is the fat boy who smell/tastes bad?"**_ Sybil raises her head to glance around. She didn't like Dudley. He'd tried to catch her a few times and she told Harry before that she'd bite Dudley next time.

Harry laughed and told her that Dudley was at his friend's birthday party.

"_**Why aren't you at this party? A party is a celebration with many friends yess?"**_

"_**Yesss, birthday parties are where you celebrate being born and being another year older. You get presents from your friends and family and they have cake and ice cream to eat. They usually play games and stuff all day. I'm not there because we're not friends. I don't mind, I really don't like**_ _**him."**_

"_**Are cake and ice cream good?"**_

"_**YES! I had my first cake and ice cream last week when school let out. My Aunt bought two slices of cake at a store that sells them by the slice in these little plastic containers. We had them with ice cream and lemonade to celebrate school being out and how our plan worked with grades."**_

"_**What plan was that?"**_

Harry spent the next half hour describing how he had been manipulating his grades and how his Aunt and he worked out a plan to do it easier for the rest of the term and make up for his perfect score on a test. They then talked about what his Aunt had said about next term and how he might be able to do better than Dudley if this terms grades went over well. Sybil thought it was silly to pretend to be dumb. If the other humans couldn't do as well, that was their problem. Harry explained how Uncle Vernon could make it Harry's problem. They were chuckling over Sybil's offer to bring some friends to bite him when they were interrupted.

"Harry!"

He looked up and turned to find his Aunt standing on the patio just outside the back door.

"Yes Aunt Petunia?"

She started to say something, then glanced around and stopped. She ended up gesturing to him as she asked him to come inside for a moment.

"What were you doing? It looked like you were hissing at the plants!"

He blushed, but trotted out his standard excuse whenever he was caught talking to snakes. "Oh, sorry. I'm just trying to learn how to do this whistle these other boys were doing and I can't seem to get my tongue right. I just end up making a hissing sound."

He felt bad for lying to his Aunt after they said they would be honest with each other, but this was different. Talking to snakes would definitely qualify as one of those freaky things she absolutely hated. He was always amazed when his lie worked if the person had seen the snake. Nobody ever wanted to really think someone could talk to a snake, so no matter how strange it seemed, they would just nod and go away. Luckily his Aunt didn't seem to have seen Sybil.

She gave him that odd look again, but thankfully let it go. She held up her hand showing Harry two envelopes.

"These just came, looks like grades are out." She smiled nervously. "Are you ready? I've tried to get Vernon in the right frame of mind by babbling about how we must remember that Dudley's poor performance early in the term will have an effect on his final marks. It should do the trick as long as we ended up close to the plan."

Harry didn't think he'd ever been this nervous before. "Right. Let's open them."

Petunia opened the envelopes, pulled out both forms and started comparing them. She suddenly reached down and grabbed Harry in a quick hug - shocking them both silent for a few moments. Then she smiled at him and handed the forms over.

"You did it Harry. I almost can't believe it and I've just looked at the proof, but you did it. Precisely as we planned. You hit the exact numbers we wanted. Now all we have to do is wait for Vernon's response. Let's do this just as we talked about. Stay out of his sight as much as possible. It's a very good thing you finished the planting today. That will make him happy. I'll shift the menu around and do tomorrows meal tonight. It's one of his favorites and there's enough time left. I'll give him Dudley's report, and if we are really lucky, he won't even ask for yours. If not, well, I think we've laid the right groundwork and it should be fine. Just stay out of sight and keep a calm face while you wait for your dinner plate. Be on your best behavior tonight."

Harry nodded and choked out an agreement. She awkwardly patted him on the shoulder and then went into the kitchen to fix dinner. Harry went back outside and put everything away, watered the new plants and tidied up as best as he could. He brushed off then headed inside to clean up and help with dinner. Everything was riding on tonight.

After all their stress and worrying, the moment was completely anti-climatic. Vernon looked at Dudley's grade report, chatted about them for a few minutes with Petunia then began reading the paper. After about 10 minutes he suddenly lifted his head up and called out.

"Petunia! Did the boy's grades arrive today as well?"

"Yes dear, of course." She moved out of the kitchen to stand just inside the lounge.

"Did he pass all of his subjects? Make a decent showing of it and not embarrass us in case the staff talks?"

"Yes. He did fine. His overall grade for the year wasn't as high as Dudley's, but the individual marks were acceptable." She decided to go for the ego point and hoped it stopped him from asking to actually see the results. Besides, she thought the ego stroking would work best to line things up for next year. "Dudley's hard work must have motivated him as well. He managed to raise his marks a few points this term. Your example of hard work and your new study rules obviously paid off well for Dudley. You must be so proud Vernon. I think if there is any talk at all, they will likely be talking about how you influenced both of them to raise their marks. You know how teachers like to brag about how teamwork between parents and teachers can do wonders for a child's school performance. Why, I wouldn't be surprised Vernon if they don't use us as an example."

And just like with the clothes, Vernon gave a pleased grunt, settled proudly back in his chair and rattled his paper importantly. Yes, he'd show them all how it was done.

EOC

Revised Sept 1.

Next : Chapter 5 - The Summer Unravels.


	5. Chpt 5: The Summer Unravels

**DISCLAIMER**: JKR ownes all Harry Potter characters and canon storyline. If you recognize it, its not mine.

**A/N:** Thank you for all the reviews and story alerts! Just a reminder that one of the themes I'm exploring with this story is a partnering relationship between Petunia and Harry; so he's not disappearing into a trunk and magical studies. As much as I enjoy the fun of that escapism; I don't feel I've anything to add to the genre so its not in my story. We, and Harry, will be spending some time in the muggle world. There are things that need to happen, especially between those two, before he chats with the Goblins and the story adds that level. Some of this may seem like fluff, but I've got reasons... :) The bulk of the story will take place before Hogwarts and hints of the more intricate subplot will start being more obvious around chpt 7. Right now Harry is oblivious to the plots and machinations of the larger world around him ( other than Petunia ), so we are as well. As his world expands, so will our eye on what's really happening.

* * *

**Chapter 5 - The Summer Unravels**

While Harry and the other students were enjoying their summer's freedom, their teachers were clearing out the mess of the last year and doing some preparation for the upcoming year. Ian Llewelyn was doing his part. He had just finished clearing his room of last years detritus and was about to begin his favorite part of what he liked to call 'The Changeover'. It was time to meet his new students. Of course, he wasn't meeting them physically. They were off racing thru parks, terrorizing their parents, and making the local public librarians life a living hell. No, he was going to meet them through their previous teachers and their last terms work. He liked to have a feel for his kids before the year started, and he hated to try and cram it all in when he was doing the work needed to start the academic year. He preferred to gather all the information at the end of the year, when the kids were still fresh in their teacher's minds and he could get all those tiny little details they would never write down in the file, but would pass along verbally. Then he could spend the summer perusing the information at his own leisure. Thirty minutes here, a couple hours there -- whenever the mood struck, and by the time school started he knew those kids like he'd taught them already.

It worked well. He didn't have to spend those first weeks learning their names, which ones to separate, who needed extra encouragement, and their strengths and weaknesses. He already knew this from the files, grade sheets, notes from chatting with their teacher's and any left behind workbooks. This enabled him to concentrate on the children themselves, what wasn't in the files, and on immediately giving help to those who needed it in various areas. He never understood why other teachers didn't do this. His first weeks were much less stressful than everyone else's. He had somehow developed a reputation for being unflappable, simply because he was so calm at the beginning of the year. No one ever seemed to accept his explanation that it was just good preparation, done slowly over time that allowed him to relax.

With his list in hand, his notebook and an empty file box; Ian set off down the hallway, whistling. It was time to start hitting up the teachers.

Midway thru the day, he knocked on his friend John's door and stuck his head in. "Oi! You ready for me yet?"

John Micklovatch looked up absentmindedly from his desk and the thick binder in front of him and waved his friend in. "Just about. Everything's over on that table." He pointed over by the window. "I'm pulling together the duplicate grade sheets now; I just got a bit sidetracked thinking about one of my kids you're getting next year."

"A problem kid?"

"Not really, not in the traditional sense. He's just a puzzle." He snapped out of it and picked up the pages he'd separated and stood. "No matter, I'll explain when we get to him. Let's start down the list. I thought we could work over by the windows, get some air and light."

Forty five minutes later they hit John's puzzle. "Alright, here's the one I was thinking about when you came in. Male, Harry Potter. Parents deceased, lives with his biological Aunt, Uncle and cousin. His cousin is in the same grade here, a Dudley Dursley."

Ian took a quick look back at his student list. "The Dursley boy isn't on my list."

"No, he wouldn't be. The Aunt requested after their first year that they be placed in separate classes for their time here. She was very emphatic about it." John began to fiddle with the twist cap of his soda bottle.

"Didn't think the old man went in for that. He's gone on before about how giving in to those requests can make scheduling a nightmare with all the parents either wanting their kid with their friends or wanting to exclude someone and how the requests never line up."

"This time there was good reason for it. The kindergarten teacher recommended it also. That's all that's in the file, so I went and had a chat with her last year. You're starting to rub off on me." He looked up at his friend with a grin. "Evidently, the Dursley boy is a terror. Gossip says he improved this last term, but he was on his way to becoming quite the brute. That first year he terrorized his cousin at every opportunity and couldn't, or wouldn't, understand why the teacher didn't allow it. She was stunned that the boy would attack the other one right in front of her and complain when she pulled him off. He was especially viscous whenever Harry would demonstrate abilities he lacked."

"That sounds like a right mess. What did the parents say?"

"Nothing, they tossed it off or at least appeared to. The Aunt's request hints that maybe she didn't, but Ellen had the impression the Uncle didn't care for Harry doing well, especially better than his son. She was very irritated over the whole mess; it made her so angry she remembered it clearly months later. The real problem seems to be that the boys arrived with a huge difference in readiness and natural ability. Harry was extremely well prepared. He was instantly at the top, while his cousin was at the bottom -- completely ill prepared and unwilling to work. The two are complete opposites in temperament as well. The Dursley boy simply wasn't capable of dealing with the idea that he wasn't the best; and especially that his cousin was better than he was at something. He became extremely belligerent in class, and during break he would chase his cousin about and try to pummel him every chance he got. You must have seen them, it was quite the sight. Drove the monitor mad. Luckily, Harry's a fast little bugger; the monitor said he was also an excellent hider. You must remember the roof incident early September of this year? That was Harry up there. To this day nobody knows just how he got up there; all he would say was that he was running from his cousin."

Ian eyes suddenly flashed with recognition "I remember that kid now! A small, dark haired, little guy, yes? Wears blocky black glasses and clothes about 3 sizes too big. I remember thinking he was such an odd duck in those things and wondered how they didn't fall off when he played."

John nodded. "That's him." He took a long drink. "You want to know the crazy part? Harry has lived with the Dursley's since he was around a year and half. The differences weren't due to environment, to his parents working with him prior to their deaths. Somehow, those two boys grew up in the same household and one ended up prepared for school while the other was absolutely not. Considering the clothes Harry used to wear to school and the Uncle's reaction, the difference isn't due to their spoiling the grieving nephew and neglecting the son." John took another sip and continued.

"Ellen thought it was just natural brightness, but his marks this year don't bear that out. It's part of what makes him a puzzle. Sometimes, I swear he gets everything I'm saying, but then he just doesn't seem able to apply it properly or even consistently."

Ian browsed through Harry's papers and scanned through his grade sheet. "hmmm yes, I see it, his performance is odd. Look at this page, if he missed this word here, he should also have missed this one - but he got that one right. That doesn't make sense."

"That's my puzzle boy, inconsistent to the end. He'll apply a concept in one place, but miss it somewhere else."

"What's this? A perfect score in Math?" Ian pointed at the page.

John groaned and slumped in his chair. "Yea, I remember that mark well. I was so excited. Thought I'd finally gotten through to him and pulled out what Ellen saw."

Ian was astonished, "Why are you so depressed? A perfect score followed by more high marks, what's wrong?"

"You haven't turned the page. It didn't last. I have no idea what happened. I still have no idea where that 100 came from. Up until I graded those quizzes, I would have put money down that nothing in his performance had changed. But, there it was, a perfect test, and I know there wasn't any cheating. The next week was followed by more good scores, and I watched carefully. Corner turned, right? Wrong. Shortly after that, he starts dropping and keeps dropping. He stopped for a bit and then totally tanked, completely. He pulled himself together again at the end of the year, but he never got back up to where he should have been. I have no explanation for any of it. I can't tell you what methods work with him, what he understood or what he didn't. His strengths and weaknesses are a complete mystery to me because there's no consistency to his performance. I've no clue as to what the problem was that caused his tanking. I tried to talk to his Aunt, but got nowhere. It was quite irritating because I know she was in every week talking to Maeve about her son and monitoring his efforts quite closely. But, whenever I tried to capture her attention in the hallway, she would brush me off and have no time to spare for me, the nephew's teacher. I felt like a leper with a social disease and bad breath."

John angrily flipped his bottle cap across the room. "Take another look at that grade sheet and see if you can find the other oddity."

Ian slowly paged through the grade sheets. He got to the end, and then started at the beginning again. He glanced up at John with a 'what am I looking for' expression, but just got a gesture telling him to continue. He was almost to the end again when he stopped dead, blinked a few times, and then backed up a few pages. He looked up at John in confusion.

"It was just Math. He only tanked Math; every other subject stayed the same. If it was improving, it kept improving at the same rate. Math just dropped off the face of the earth. Suddenly. One day good, next day zero. That doesn't happen. No kid this age tanks one subject. He doesn't have hormones out of whack because of some girl in the next row, or doesn't get along with the teacher of that subject. Nothing in the environment changes from subject to subject, there's no reason for one minute to be performing fine and then the next nothing; especially in what was previously his best subject. This makes no sense whatsoever from an educational standpoint! What the hell is going on with this kid?"

"That my friend has been my great conundrum these last weeks. I'm going spare over this; I swear I could find no explanation. And it's just like you describe. One moment he's sitting there participating, engaged in the lesson and doing fine. We start math, and suddenly he's staring out the window daydreaming. He'll have all his homework, except for his math worksheet. That one will have miraculously disappeared."

"I know something's going on Ian, I know it. But I just can't find it. The Aunt would tell me nothing about the home and I can't see anything here that caused it."

Ian tapped his pen against his notepad. "What about the cousin's scores? Anything odd there? If it was something at the home, it might have affected both of them."

John looked up in surprise. "I never looked at his cousin's marks for that time period. It never occurred to me." He jumped up. "Lets go, Maeve should still be here. If his grades fluctuated at the same time maybe that's a clue, maybe she got something out of the Aunt."

Ian laughed. "You're like a dog with a bone on this one."

"You've no idea. I like this kid Ian. There's just something about him that's special. That's why I pushed so hard to get him into your class. I know how much you put into your kids each year, and I was hoping you might find what I couldn't. You've finally given me a clue and we're following it up right now!"

The two walked across the hall and found Maeve just packing up to head home. She smiled up at them. "Hullo you two. Taking a break from the interrogation?"

The three laughed together as the two men took up perches on the corners of her desk. "We need a favor Maeve. We want to take a look at this terms grade sheets for Dudley Dursley. I'm just going over things on his cousin, Harry Potter, for Ian and there were some odd fluctuations in Harry's marks for awhile. We want to see if anything like that happened with Dudley in the same time frame."

"Well, I don't recall any major fluctuations in Dudley's marks." Her hands stilled as she stopped and though for a moment. "He initially decreased this term, then, once his mother became involved, he had fairly steady improvement. A few bobbles here and there, but nothing major that I recall. I'm just heading out, do you need me or would a copy do? Sorry I can't stay, but I'm meeting my sister for bridesmaid dress fittings. She'll kill me if I'm late." She smiled at them as she held out her book.

"No, that's fine. We'll give you a call if we have any questions. I'll be right back with this, thanks!" John grabbed her grade book and bolted for the door. Ian followed and called after him "NO RUNNING IN THE HALLWAYS". He turned back and grinned at Maeve, "I almost made him run into the office door!"

They chatted as she finished clearing her desk and packing up. Ian picked up the box to carry to her car just as John returned with her grade book. "Ian, why don't I go pack up your things in my room and meet you in the parking lot? We can finish going over Harry and the last few over at your place. We can sit outside and take our time."

Ian laughed "You just want to ogle my neighbors."

"There is that, but I was actually thinking more of being able to have a bitter."

"Cheeky bastard! Emptying my cupboards…" He grinned and nodded an agreement to his friend, then turnned and ushered Maeve out the door.

Maeve laughed at their familiar antics. "I notice you aren't pushing back very hard."

"Of course not. Why do you think I scheduled John for last? I picked up our favorite brews and manly munchies yesterday."

"Manly munchies?" She queried with a raised eyebrow.

Ian put on a fake accent "Of course. No crudités or fancy pate for us. Its salt and grease all the way, baby." His voice went back to normal "Well, except for some nice cheese and a good Italian dry salami." Their shared laughter echoed in the empty hallway as they exited the building.

OooOooOoo

Almost 2 hours later John & Ian are finally ensconced on his back patio enjoying the breeze and their pints. The delay wasn't due to traffic. No, Ian just had a difficult time extracting his friend from the two young women who lived next door. Using rocks from the garden as paperweights, they've arranged the two boy's grade sheets on the table, lined up so they can easily compare the scores for each timeframe.

Ian turned to John. "Should we go straight to that week, or should we start at the beginning? I took a very quick scan of the week when I put it down, but I didn't see anything drastic."

"hmmm. If nothing jumped out, maybe we should start at the beginning, looking for any patterns between the two. If we're familiar with their norms, then maybe we will see something when we get there."

The two settled down with pads and pencils and started reviewing the boys' scores and Maeve's notes on each week. They'd only been working a few minutes when suddenly Ian started, and then leant forward.

"What the…" he mumbled softly. Then he blurted out a loud "Holy shite! I can't believe the little bugger!"

John stared at his friend. "What? What?"

Ian pointed a finger on one hand to week 4 on Dudley's sheet. He then pointed another finger to the same week on Harry's, but just a few days later. He slowly moved his fingers along in tandem and then did the same for the following week. John suddenly saw the pattern and dropped into his chair, staring dumbfounded at the pages.

"No wonder I couldn't understand his performance. This is the key. Unless you're looking at Dudley's marks, you would never see it. Harry's marks had nothing to do with anything going on in my classroom whatsoever."

Ian just shook his head. "I've never seen anything like this. Five points, he's always right around five bloody points below whatever his cousin got a few days earlier in every single subject. Ellen was right; he is a naturally brilliant little bugger. His only problem was that he's just a kid and he didn't know not to do it perfectly. Anything this perfect isn't a coincidence."

They sat in silence for good bit. Drinking their pints and lost in their own thoughts. Trying to figure out all the reasons why he would do such a thing, and how they could help change the situation.

Ian suddenly grunted, put down his unfinished pint and started analyzing the grade sheets once again.

"What is it, Ian?"

"Give me a few mate, there's one other question I want confirmed. I'll explain my thinking soon as I've got my data." He grinned back at his friend and pulled out his pad and started making some notes.

John raided the kitchen and returned with refills for the platters of nibble food on the side table. A few minutes later Ian looked up and motioned for him to come over and look at the grade sheets with him.

"I wanted to see if he maintained this pattern the rest of the term, plus I especially wanted to take a look at what really happened around the Math score, now that we know what he was doing."

Ian took a deep breath. "Right. In his other subjects, you can see the pattern clearly. Almost exactly 5 points below his cousin, until.." Ian broke off and glanced at John, "right after his 100 in Math. That seems to be a real trigger point; afterwards there are a lot of changes in his pattern and method. Firstly, he no longer starts his pattern a few days behind Dudley. The time lag moves out to a week and he began to close the score gap. It looks like he's aiming for just barely below his cousin in most of his other subjects, except for this one here."

He continues with his finger pointed at one row. "This one, he ends matching his cousin exactly, but he's got a bit of ground to make up, so he first goes over a few points here and there then the last month when he's got the running average's matching, he hits exact matches every time until the end of the year."

John just sat shaking his head. "How could he do this? He's just a little guy, only 7, 7 ½. How could he do the calculations necessary, let alone make each test come out with the targeted mark! He must have had help, at least in doing some of the math, right?"

"Maybe, maybe not. That 100 shows he's much better at math than you suspected. Someone could have explained percentages to him and then all he'd need is a calculator. With a calculator, he wouldn't even need to know the theory, just the right steps to follow. I'm assuming you're like me and you tend to have the same number of questions on your tests and graded homework?"

"Well, yea, I guess I do, depending on the subject. That would make it easier, there really aren't that many variables, are there. All he'd have to do is figure out how many to get right out of those specific numbers to hit his target. Since he knows his target days ahead, he's got plenty of time to map things out if he's got access to a calculator and maybe someone older to give him a hand."

"Yes, and once he's gone thru it a few times, he'd have all the possibles written down. Let's say in short spelling quizzes you always have 18 questions. If he makes a list saying that for 18 questions; 15 right is 83 and 12 right is 67, and so on, he never has to do those calculations ever again. See what I mean? The night before a test he just looks at his cousins score, checks his list and picks his numbers. I bet by now he's got the equivalent of a chart half memorized in his head and all he has to do is count the questions and he knows exactly how many to miss to hit his target."

John had a big grin on his face. "I knew I liked him. I don't like the idea of him holding himself back, but you have to admit, the whole thing is pretty brilliant. And somewhat funny in retrospect. I can't believe I never saw how smart he really is."

"Yes you did. You told me earlier that you could swear he understood everything you said but that he just didn't apply it. You were right. He did understand. He just wasn't applying it in the normal manner."

They both started laughing, relieved at solving the puzzle of his grades. More than willing to bask in the moment and put off solving the mystery of 'why' to later.

"Come on, one more thing to look at. His math scores are where you can really see how devious our little bugger is." They settled in to enjoy watching Harry's scheme unfold. Somehow, they had begun to feel very proprietary about their bright little con man.

"Taken in isolation, there is nothing to make you think planned manipulation. But, when you compare it to his cousins, and especially when you compare the running average grade here, you see what he's doing. The 100 was a fluke, bet he did it by accident or reflex. Must not have realized it was a test or something to be handed in. I bet he just didn't think and filled everything in, then panicked when he realized you wanted them back."

Ian paused while he wished he could go back and be a fly on the wall to see the boy's face at that moment. "I think everything that happened later was just backpedaling to fix this one mistake. After such a change, he has to continue to do better or else the 100 would stand out too much and draw attention. So he does better, then when you changed modules he took the opportunity to start dropping performance, pretending not to understand. You can see how his average is falling steadily, much too steadily, it's too regular without a single variation. If it was on a graph, the bloody thing would be a straight line. Here he hovers for a bit while Dudley improved. Hmpf, bet he thought his cousin would do better and he wouldn't have to do any worse, his cousin's grade would rise to match his and he could just hold steady. He chose a bit high, guess he was feeling optimistic!"

They both chuckled. "But his cousin's improvement didn't hold, he fell again. This is the most important bit for you, John. Immediately after Dudley's drop is when our boy's math scores tank. He stays that way until his average hits just above his cousins in the last 2 weeks of school, then he holds steady again. It's actually pretty impressive when you think of it. He was only 7 1/2 yrs old; this is damn good for that age. He's only getting caught because he never expected anyone to see both their grades together."

John drained his pint glass. "That was a pretty fair assumption he had, given they're in separate classes. Normally nobody would ever put the detailed grade sheets together. We keep them and only turn in summaries. Even if someone were to gather them up for each grade, their different last names would keep them separated."

Ian agreed and also finished his pint. "We only caught it because he was too exact in his formula. To plan for someone seeing both grades, he would have needed to include some natural variations, some randomness, and not stayed so close to the same marks early in the term, but aimed more for an end point. Concepts way too advanced for a child."

John nodded slowly and rose to his feet while Ian stared obliviously into his garden. He picked up the empties and walked into the kitchen for a couple more bottles and returned, handing one to Ian. "You know, I should want to ring his neck for causing me all that worry, but I'm just so glad that there wasn't some horrid problem at home to precipitate the tanking. He simply needed his average to drop and he didn't have much time to do it in."

"We don't know that John. There must be something going on at home to cause him to even start this scheme. A child of this age doesn't go to such complicated measures unless there's a certain level of desperation involved. He has a reason. Something that made him believe he couldn't do better than his cousin, and there must be some fear involved. Motivations at that age are pretty basic, the logic is usually screwy as hell, but the motivation is simplistic."

"But he did. In the end, he did better than his cousin in Math."

"Yes." Ian drawled out slowly, thinking. "But he didn't do that until after the 100. Before that point in time, he was aiming for five below, just like in his other subjects."

John joined in. "After the 100 is also when he shortened the gap in those other subjects. Brought his grades up closer to his cousins and matched in one subject."

"And the time lag went up to a week vs just a few days."

They looked at each other in agreement. Yes, something definitely happened, some change, when Harry Potter received a perfect score on a Math quiz.

Ian finished pouring the beer into his glass, giving the process much more concentration than normal. His face cleared and he looked up. "A test run. They' a test run, I'm sure of it."

"Huh?"

"His grades this last term. His first term grades, I bet they were all below Dudley's because that's how he started the new term. We should confirm that with Maeve. This term, he ends with one score slightly higher, one exactly matching, and the others below - but just not as far below as before. It's like he's trying out different scenarios. Testing the waters."

"That's some advanced thinking. I don't believe a child of this age is capable of that concept, especially with multiple variations in his test."

"No, he's not, but I bet his Aunt is. Remember what you said about how she was the one insisting they be in different classes? And how she was in all the time the last months of term meeting with Maeve? I don't know if she's behind all of this and is forcing him to under-perform her son, that somehow doesn't feel right to me, but I do believe she is involved somehow, especially with what went on at the end of term."

John mused, "I can't help but remember what Ellen said about the Uncle, how she got the impression he didn't like Harry doing better than Dudley. Maybe our motivation lies in that direction. The Aunt may not be the original force behind it, but perhaps she's the enforcement arm?"

Ian sipped for a while, thinking things over. "After the 100, wasn't that when there seemed to be more direct manipulation of the running averages? Before, everything just seemed to be straight five points below. After that, things seem to have gotten more complex."

John leant forward again and studied the forms. "Yes, they really did. After that point, it's more like he was aiming for the running average than the old Dudley - x formula." He met Ian's eyes "Aiming for an end point, like you said earlier. A more advanced concept. Yes indeed, I think someone else became involved after the 100. The Aunt or some unknown. If she's not an active enforcer, maybe he went to someone for help in how to fix things after that high score."

"Do we know anything about other adults he may have available to him?"

"No, I've never heard him mention anyone. I doubt it would be the Uncle, everything I send home is always signed by the Aunt. He never seems to be involved directly." John suddenly sat up straight. "Bollocks! I can't believe I forgot! I was so proud of his perfect score that I wanted to make sure he shared it. I made him take it home to be signed. It was returned with the Aunt's signature!"

* * *

Completely unaware of the train barreling down the tracks towards them, Harry and Petunia were enjoying their summer. In fact, everyone in the Dursley household seemed to be having a good summer for once. Dudley was spending the majority of his time at his friend's homes, playing in the park, or upstairs on his video games. Every 2 weeks, either Vernon or Petunia sat down with him and did a basic review covering part of last year so he wouldn't backslide. He was enjoying basking in his father's approval over his grades as well as the extra positive attention, and Vernon had taken to telling him Smelting's stories while they reviewed. He hadn't beaten up anyone in months and no longer caused trouble at the playground.

Vernon was enjoying Petunia's good spirits and the time he spent pontificating to Dudley. Vernon's own continued good mood and the pleasant atmosphere in the home was causing him to pat himself on the back for adopting his new attitude towards the boy. His home life was pleasant, less stressful; the boy stayed very much out of his way and Vernon often only saw him at dinner time to hand him his plate.

Early in the season, Vernon hired a landscaping firm to stop by three times a month for the heavy yard work and only had the boy do touchups, mostly weeding, deadheading and watering. He frankly admitted to himself that this worked out much better. The boy was really too small to adequately use the necessary tools. Petunia had to buy a special trowel to fit his small hand. The house had never looked better and Vernon was preening. His neighbors were once again smiling at him and speaking approvingly, except for those strange comments about the boys glasses. He didn't understand why everyone seemed to have a comment on them, but that oddity aside, he didn't remember ever having a nicer summer season.

Petunia was reveling in her normal, peaceful life. Everything was going according to plan, and the settling in period she had scheduled for Vernon worked wonders. She couldn't recall the last time he was in such good temper. Her belief about how living a more normal life would make them all happier, had been proven. After all, it's worked.

She now had a greater resolve than ever to continue with her plans. Vernon finally agreed to start limiting junk food for Dudley. She had to go to the extreme measure of tracking how much they spent on sweets, unhealthy snacks and drinks just for Dudley. She sprung this information on Vernon after Dudley's dental checkup found cavities while Harry had none. The two combined were enough to finally change his mind that it would be a good move for all of them. She was greatly looking forward to watching this change, combined with the lighter foods served during the summer, slim Dudley down a bit.

Harry of course, was having the best summer of his life. He had decent clothes to wear around the neighborhood and plenty of time to read and play, and other children to play with. He had found that indeed, it was pleasant to read one of his mum's books under a tree in the park. He had also found that he likes to read them while up in various trees.

He took the time one day to pull most of the books out of the box to look through them, except for a couple boring looking ones at the very bottom. While reading his mum's books makes him feel close to her, he was starting to wish her taste in books had been a little different. In other words, he was starting to want to read more 'boy books'. Mum's box didn't have any real adventure stories or ones where the main characters were boys. Her books were all about girls. He wanted to read about boys doing fun things, and about pirate ships, cowboys, and spacemen.

A small amount of guilt was developing. Harry felt bad about his mum's books not being enough. He never used to have anything except schoolbooks and now he had real chapter books and he wanted more. Harry was discovering the bizarre truth that it's easier to not want things when you don't have anything and don't see that changing anytime soon. Having _something_ somehow makes it easier to start wanting _more_ things and harder to stop the wanting once it's started. He thought about Dudley's greed and tried harder not to want.

The local public library was a big help. He'd been browsing around and looking at books there and he'd found lots he wanted to read, but it was hard to have to read them there. Sometimes the book he was reading wasn't there when he went back the next day and he had to wait for it to come back. Harry wanted a library card of his own. They wouldn't give him one without an adult guardian coming in to sign for it. He didn't know how to ask Aunt Petunia. He'd never asked for a 'thing' before. He'd asked for help on grades and stuff, but never asked her to get him something. He wasn't sure how to do it, nor was he sure she would agree or even that he should want the card. Was he being greedy?

That Sunday, Petunia decided she'd had enough. She'd been watching the boy dither around something for the last few days and her nerves just couldn't take it anymore. He obviously wanted something. She was dreading finding out what. It was probably something completely impossible, like a game system of his own. The sooner she found out what it was and said no, the sooner they could go back to normal.

Harry was folding the towel load when his Aunt came up next to him and started folding with him.

"So, Harry. I can't help but notice that there is something you want to ask me, but you don't know how to go about it. Best thing is just to jump right in and say it. I promise I won't interrupt until you've had your say. So, just take a deep breath and spit it out." She looked over at him, just standing there next to her. "Now would be a good time."

Harry took a deep breath and let the words flow out in a rush "I want a library card. The Librarian says I have to have a guardian come in and sign for it and help do the paperwork and all. I can't get a card without that, so could you come to the library with me and help me get a library card and sign as my guardian?"

Petunia's hands stilled in surprise. _'Well, that was unexpected. Heavens, all this over a library card… This boy somehow manages to be both the easiest child and also the most complicated, all at the same time. I can never guess what's going to come out of his mouth. No reason not to get him a card; should have thought of that myself ages ago. This will definitely give him more books to occupy his time in that cupboard.'_

"All right. I can do that. There's no reason you shouldn't have a card as long as you promise to take good care of the books and return them on time. I don't want to have to be paying any fines. If something happens to one of the library books, you must promise to tell me right away, even if its something Dudley has done. Agreed?"

A smile slowly spread across his face as he nodded his head frantically. They got the card the next day and Harry's summer once again was absolutely perfect, his wanting completely under control.

EOC

Revised Sept 6.

Chapter 6 - Secrets Revealed

( yes... its what you think! )


	6. Chpt 6: Secrets Revealed

**DISCLAIMER**: JKR ownes all Harry Potter characters and canon storyline. If you recognize it, its not mine.

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Secrets Revealed**

Ian opened the door to his classroom, carefully balancing the box in his other arm. He wrinkled his nose at the stuffy air as he made his way to the desk, where he deposited his burden. "Whew! The air system sure isn't helping much." He muttered as he headed straight for the bank of windows. According to his philosophy of gradual preparation, he'd come by to make a few changes to his classroom for next year.

He walked down the row, unlatching and pushing the windows open. Last window done, he habitually glanced over the courtyard below and the schoolyard beyond looking for signs of small heads. He started when he found one where he least expected. He stared for a moment, then smiled and propped himself up on the windowsill to observe quietly. '_Dilemma, Dilemma…should I, shouldn't I_' ran through his mind. He finally decided he should NOT and stayed where he was until the child packed up his booty and, after a careful glance around the yard, left his view.

Ian sat at the window chuckling to himself. "Well, that does explain a few things. I can't wait to have that boy in my class, don't know when I've looked forward to September more." He started whistling as he opened his box and made the few changes to his room that he had decided upon at this point. Thirty minutes later, classroom closed up and locked, he was sitting on his car boot dialing his cell phone.

"John? It's Ian. I'm just up to the school making a few changes to my room and "

He laughed at the interruption, "You know my theory, bits and drabs here and there make for a calm and happy Ian in late August. Anyway, I've got news for you."

"About our boy, that's what, our little conundrum. You know how the clerks review the books and toss out all the damaged ones in early summer? Well, he was going thru the recycle bin full of old books, picking out ones to keep. He had a tidy little stack setup there on the ground, full of books for the older years. I bet he's stopping by every few days to see what new books they've tossed. We wondered just how he learned the math, well, now we know. I'm really beginning to wonder just how far ahead our boy really is. If he's going through those books, he must be reading at way above current level. I'm feeling worried I won't get to teach the twirp. It's looking more and more like he may just test completely out of my year once we get the truth out of him and get him tested." He gave a rueful chuckle. "I've not even taught him yet, but I feel like I'm loosing my favorite student!"

"No, I don't know exactly what books he had, couldn't see them that clearly from my window. A couple of the covers I saw looked like the reading book 6 and maybe a science, but I'm not sure. I thought about going down and introducing myself and chatting, but decided that may make him nervous and ruin everything. After all, he's been hiding his abilities, last thing he wants is for next year's teacher seeing him with the advanced books and knowing he's using them. I don't want him on his guard thinking up excuses for Autumn; I'd rather we surprised him and caught him off balance. We'll learn more that way."

He threw his head back and laughed. "Exactly, my devious friend. The other reason I'm calling is I'm heading up to my folks lake house next week. My neighbors have off, want to join us? They can only stay a week, but I'm thinking of staying for two or more. You're welcome to come for any timeframe you please. There's excellent tramping in the area, so you should bring your gear. We could even spend some time in the Peaks."

He settled back against the car's rear window and proceeded to make holiday plans. The lake would be a perfect place to plot the interview with their conundrum, and his Aunt.

* * *

The view out the kitchen window of number 4 was usually a pleasant but uninspired one, a good sized grass yard surrounded by basic flower beds, hedges and fences. A small tree provided a bit of shade, but it hadn't grown up enough to be really useful. Petunia always liked to take a cup of tea in the morning and enjoy the flowers. Today she simply couldn't seem to find the same pleasure, her mind & eyes kept jerking over to where her nephew was watering. If she didn't know any better, she'd say she felt guilty; that she had been feeling guilty ever since the episode over the library card a few weeks ago. She had just been so sure he'd be asking for something expensive, things like Dudley's. But he hadn't. He never had asked for anything before or since. It wasn't that she wanted him asking for things he couldn't have, but there was just something about how he never asked at all, something that made her feel odd. Her eyes drifted over to the calendar hanging on the wall by the phone and her mind registered that the end of July was coming near. She refused to let certain words form in her consciousness. She decided to make a stop at the home supply / hardware store that afternoon, that new do-it-yourself warehouse place. It would be fun to browse and see what they have, she told herself. That's all she was doing. Nothing special. She closed up the glossy advertising circular in front of her, hiding the pictures of shelves, guaranteed easy to install.

* * *

Harry stared, not believing what his eyes plainly showed. When he left this morning, the tall wall by the door had a single shelf he used for his schoolbooks. Now that niche was filled with a shelf unit. Five shelves, six if you count the top, and a curtain. The shelf that had been there was now along the side of his bed, up a ways. The curtain didn't slide, it was just tacked in place, but it would keep the dust out of whatever was on the shelves. It also had the side benefit of hiding the contents from view as he came and went from the cupboard.

He jerked as two short raps sounded and the cupboard door opened. He looked up to find his Aunt standing there with that same oddly nervous but defiant look he'd seen before. She nodded toward the new shelves.

"I thought you would need more storage this year, especially for your good clothes. Makes no sense to buy decent things and wash them only to have them sit and gather dust on an open shelf before you wear them. Plus we need to make sure those library books you've been bringing back are kept in a decent place, and its best if that's out of Dudley's eyes. You may organize things as you like in here." She looked around and then stood a bit stiffer. "I don't want you getting any ideas about today's date. It just happened that I finished hemming the curtain last night and had the time this morning to bring it all upstairs. This has nothing to do with that. The shelves were on sale last week and it just came together this way. Now, lunch will be ready in 10 minutes. You may take yours outside if you wish."

"Yes ma'am. I won't be getting any ideas, I understand." He nodded at her solemnly. She nodded back then turned and left, closing the door.

He smiled. He'd gotten to know his Aunt quite well this last year. He knew exactly what she meant. For the first time ever, he had a gift on his birthday. And he would never tell a soul, not even Aunt Petunia.

The next minutes passed quickly as the cupboard was re-arranged. Good clothes and library books went inside the curtain with his schoolbooks on the top so it looked much like before. School discard books, from their spot tucked under the landing, found a new home where his good clothes used to be. He placed the current books he was reading on the shelf over his bed along with some pretty rocks he picked up long ago. He left Dudley's cast-offs where they were. He still had plenty of space behind the curtain for his Mums books and decided to spend the evening arranging them just right. He looked around his tiny room and smiled before he left for the kitchen.

Lunch turned out to be another surprise. After gathering his plate and glass of milk from his Aunt, he headed outside to his favorite corner. Kneeling, he organized everything around him, carefully placing his milk in the shade. He took a minute to stare at his plate. Chicken salad sandwiches, normally nothing he would think much about, but this was his favorite recipe, the one she taught him to make last month with the tarragon, gold raisons and almonds. Next to this were melon slices, orange and green, and a nice pile of strawberries and grapes. Again, all foods he liked, and a type of sandwich Dudley hated. Only he and Aunt Petunia liked them and she usually only served them on their Sundays. He wanted to thank her, but knew that if he did, she would be angry and would never do it again. This summer was going well; he could see that everyone in the house seemed happy for once and were busy doing things they liked. He couldn't recall a single angry moment between anyone. Aunt Petunia must be trying to reward him for his part in keeping the peace and staying away from Vernon and Dudley, he couldn't think of any other reason she would be so nice to him. Even knowing it was a reward, he still felt the urge to do something back in return. He'd never had such a nice birthday in his life, that he could recall, it didn't feel right to just do nothing to say thanks.

"_**Hello Harry."**_ Sybil poked her head out between the leaves.

"_**Hello Sybil."**_ Harry pulled a bit of chicken out of his sandwich and extended it to his friend on his finger.

She carefully took the meat. _**"Interesting. Tastes green, not as good as mouse. The pair underneath the azalea had young. I caught one two days ago. It was very tasty. I've had to chase two snakes away from trying to hunt my mice!"**_

Harry laughed and lay down to be on Sybil's level and continued to eat his sandwich. _**"That was chicken salad, it has herbs in it. That must be what tasted green. It's actually my favorite. My Aunt made it because today is my birthday. I'm 8 years old today."**_

She cocked her head, _**"Is this the day with a party, presents, cake and ice cream?"**_

"_**Well, for some people it is, for me it's usually just another day. But, this year… it's more. My Aunt is being especially nice to me today and she made my favorite lunch. I'm trying to think of something nice to do for her in return."**_

"_**What did you decide?"**_

"_**I don't have anything yet."**_

"_**Hssss. Well, what does she like?"**_

"_**A quiet, peaceful, normal life. Other than that, it's hard to say. She likes to gossip with her friends. The things she likes are kind of difficult."**_

"_**What about when she was young? What did she like then?"**_

"_**I'm not sure. She's talked about helping her father work in his vegetable garden. She liked spending time with him."**_

"_**She doesn't work out here that much, not that I've seen."**_

"_**No, but we don't have a vegetable garden."**_ He smiled as he teased… then his eyes widened. _**"That's IT. Maybe I can help make a vegetable garden! She loves fresh veg, and liked her fathers garden. Maybe I can offer to change some of the space back here into a vegetable garden. I can look that up at the library. We grow flowers back here; vegetables can't be too much different. They're just plants, right? I know how to plant flowers, how much harder could vegetables be?"**_

"_**More growing things is good, it's very empty here."**_

"_**Thanks Sybil! You gave me a great idea."**_

She curled up in the edge of the grass and kept him company and they chatted about the other snakes in the area, mice, and how Sybil would like him to add a nice flat rock for sunning to the garden. As he took his plate and glass inside, Harry realized that he just had a sort of birthday party. He had a gift, special food and the company of a friend. He knew other people would laugh, but it was still the best birthday party he'd ever had.

Dinner that night was also peppered with a few of Harry's favorites and he felt like skipping as he returned to his cupboard after helping wash-up. His day just kept getting better and better and he still had the fun of organizing his Mum's books for the rest of the evening.

He carefully folded the curtain up and laid it over the top corner of the shelves with a schoolbook as a weight on top. Then he plopped down across his bed and wriggled his mum's box out of its hiding place, back onto the bed and dragged it over near his new shelves. Kneeling, he opened the box with a great sigh of pleasure and began organizing books. By the time he was three quarters of the way through the box, he'd already tried 2 different shelving methods and he was now on his third, hopefully final one. He'd tried organizing them by size but that put the little kid books next to older age books and he realized he didn't like that. So he started separating them by age but the shelf looked all sloppy. Now he was trying a mix of the two and first separated them by 3 general age groupings, then again by size and lastly putting the ones with the same author together. So far this seemed to be a bit better and he'd been able to keep the tall books near the edges and not scattered in the middle.

He stared critically at a shelf as he grabbed up a new book from deep in the box. It slipped out of his grip and fell to the floor by his knee with its pages open. He stopped and stared. _That's odd, it's not typed, that's handwriting…_he picked it up and looked at the cover. Huh, he'd never picked this one out before, he hadn't liked the cover or title when he saw bits of it below other books and there wasn't a book under it so he'd never pulled it out. For the first time, he opened the cover, turned the flyleaf and stopped breathing. Face up was another page with the words:

The Diary Of

Lily Evans

Age 10 - 13

A huge pressure built up inside, but he couldn't seem to do anything about it. _AIR_! _BREATHE_! He shouted to himself in his head and suddenly he was breathing, great big gulps of air. He slipped sideways off his knees and leant into the wall, gaping at the book he was still clenching tightly.

Her diary…his Mum's diary. He rubbed his finger over her name, written in childish loops. _'She wrote this, it's got all her thoughts and feelings and what she did for three years! I'm going to get to know my mum…what she was like; in here she's just a bit older than me. I'm going to get to know my mum…'_

Harry slowly backed up to his mattress, crawled onto his bed and lay there holding the book to his chest, tears silently creeping down his cheeks. After a few minutes, he wiped his face, rolled over and just looked at the book. That ugly cover, now the best thing he'd ever seen. This really was the best birthday ever.

Two sharp raps on his door and his Aunts voice called, "Five minutes to bedtime. Finish up and come brush your teeth then its lights out."

He had a great urge to swear. Harry sat up and slowly put the book down on the other side of the mattress, hidden from the door. He moved quickly over and finished putting the last few books into the shelves, then tucked the empty box back into the hidy hole. The curtain dropped tidily back into place and he left for the bathroom.

Brushing his teeth, he decided that maybe this was best. He thought about how hard it would be to stop once he started reading. If he had gotten a few pages or even just sentences into the diary and had to stop, that would be much, much worse. This way, he could start reading tomorrow and know that nothing would stop him for quite a while. Now all he had to decide was where he wanted to be while reading his mum's diary.

He fell asleep that night with one hand off the bed touching the book.

* * *

Up in his favorite tree back behind the schoolyard, Harry was laughing over his mum's diary. He'd spent most of yesterday in the same spot. Lily had gotten the diary as a secret birthday gift from her father. She wrote that he told her it was secret, "because what use is it to give you a diary hidden in a fake book if everyone knows about it!" Harry thought his grandfather sounded like a lot of fun. The first several pages had described her birthday party in detail, down to her dress, the cake decorations, games played, and a list of the presents each guest had brought. She had seemed very interested in the presents and he wondered if Dudley's birthday greed was a family trait and if he would have been the same if his mum hadn't died. A quick shudder and he'd moved on, choosing not to think about that.

The first few months had an entry every few days. Yesterday, Harry enjoyed reading about how she spent her time and her interactions with Petunia. Like a lot of siblings on his block, they seemed to be best friends some days and hate each other the next. Sometimes he could see the Aunt Petunia he knew in his mum's descriptions, but more often he couldn't. The child Petunia seemed much more spirited, less worried about what others thought, and just in general more relaxed about life. She and Lily got up to quite a bit of trouble, usually all Petunia's ideas. It was one of those episodes that Harry was laughing about now. They had dressed the family dog up in their old baby clothes that their mum had been saving and tried to have a tea party like in Alice in Wonderland. The dog then got loose and they had to chase him down the street with all the neighbors laughing and their mum screaming. They finally found him covered in mud, the dress torn, and frantically scrubbing his head against a tree trying to get the bonnet off. Their father laughed so hard when they saw him that he almost fell over, and he made the girls promise not to tell their mother that he laughed. They were to claim that he yelled at them until they apologized and cried for forgiveness on their knees. Then the three of them laughed together at their poor mutt and their dad carried the dog home where their mum grounded them both and threatened to cancel Lily's upcoming 11th birthday party.

Just the thought of a dog, wearing a babies dress and bonnet, running down the street made Harry laugh more. A few pages later he read an entry where Lily said someone was pranking her with a letter about a School for Witches and Wizards called Hogwarts and claiming that Lily was a Witch and they were holding a spot for her come September. She thought it was an excellent joke -- especially the part about replying by owl -- and was sure her Dad was behind it. Considering how much teasing he'd read about so far, Harry had to agree. It did sound like something his grandfather would do. She said she was going to come up with a good reply in the spirit of the prank and he couldn't wait to read what she did back.

Only she didn't write about pranking her Dad back, she wrote about how a real witch had come to their house and shown them real magic. It wasn't a joke, Hogwarts was real and Lily Evans was a witch. A broomstick riding, wand-waving, cauldron brewing Witch. All those things existed and Lily would learn about them when she went to Hogwarts. The witch had asked them if odd things ever happened around Lily; unexplainable, impossible things. She told them that was Accidental Magic and magical children did it when they were upset or frightened, whenever emotions were high or they wanted something badly enough.

The book fell out of Harry's hands and Harry fell out of his tree. He didn't hit the ground. He floated down and gently came to rest next to the diary, his breathing as fast as if he had been running a race. He put a hand out and patted the ground, then looked up to where he had been sitting just a few moments ago. He sat up and stared at the book as if it had bitten him.

_That can't be real_…_but if it is true, if magic is real, and all the freaky things I do are really magic…_ that would make a lot of sense. But magic couldn't be real; someone would have said something, wouldn't they? Then he remembered Aunt Petunia saying there were things he didn't know, things she couldn't tell him until he was older that would make him understand better why she wanted a normal life. _Is this what she was talking about? Will she tell me about this when I'm older, when I'm 11 like mum in the diary and the witch came? Can this be real?_

He reached out slowly and picked the book back up; he'd read more and see what they had to say before he made up his mind. Maybe this part was a joke, a story his mum made up. There had to be a way to see if it was true or not and hopefully he'd find it if he kept reading. This time he was staying on the ground and he rested his back against the tree and turned to the right page.

And so Harry read. He read all about the types of things that fall under Accidental Magic and he recognized a lot of the 'freaky' stuff. He didn't see anything about ending up on roofs or talking to snakes, but there was a lot of other stuff he'd done. He read about the witch warning them how the Secrecy Act worked and how they couldn't tell anyone about magic being real or about the Wizarding World, she then took them to the Wizarding World in London. To a place called Diagon Alley. It sounded like it was the magical shopping district and they were going to buy Lily's school supplies and uniform. The witch told them that, in the Wizarding World, they used different names for people. The Evans were Muggles - meaning non-magical folks, and Lily was what's known as a Muggleborn witch; boys were wizards. Lily was a magical person born to non-magical parents. They had something like that in reverse too, non-magical children born to magical's; those were called Squibs and were rarely talked about in company. Harry thought that those words sounded kind of mean. Muggle and Squib. He wrinkled his nose.

Lily described driving into town and going to a pub called The Leaky Cauldron on Charing Cross road near an Underground station. Only magical people could see the pub. Muggles could if they had been told it was there, but they had to think about it real hard. The pub was the doorway between the two worlds. You would go in the pub and go out the back into the wizard world and magical people would do the same in reverse, only they would be going into the muggle world.

From then on Harry was lost in the detailed descriptions he read. She was so excited and enamored of her new world, that she wrote every detail. From the outside of The Leaky Cauldron, to the tapping of the bricks and the names of the shops she saw as the wall opened. He followed along as they went to the bank called Gringotts run by Goblins to exchange money. Seems they used different money than the rest of England. They had gold galleons, silver sickles, and bronze knuts. His mum even included how many of each smaller coin was in the next larger up and the conversion to British Pounds. He paid special attention when Lily wrote about her parents promising to setup a vault all her own. She would need to have one as an adult and her Dad thought it would be handy to use now for her money for school things. He didn't like the idea of sending her off through London to do school shopping with pockets full of pound notes she would then have to convert. Lily wrote about how she wanted to deposit her inheritance from Great Aunt Matilda, and her Dad said he'd check into it. He wasn't sure how it could be transferred in without causing a fuss in the normal world, all that money just disappearing from the records. If they could do it, he promised Lily that they would and that they would also transfer in enough money to cover a few year's school expenses.

Once they had galleons, the witch first took them to get robes. It seems that witches and wizards didn't dress like everyone else. They wore "robes", and the Evans family had stood out because they were dressed like Muggles. People had kept pointing and looking at them. The witch recommended that the entire family pick up a robe to wear over their clothes, especially if they were ever going to come back to Diagon Alley with Lily. It would be best to be dressed like everyone else and not stand out so much. From the descriptions, it sounded to Harry as if the entire wizard world dressed in Halloween costumes! He wondered if Aunt Petunia still had hers.

Wearing robes seemed to have worked, because when they went back out into the street, nobody paid them any mind at all. The next stop was to buy Lily's wand. It took a few tries, but her wand was described as being very 'swishy', whatever that meant, and excellent for charms work. Harry smiled at how excited she was and how she said it felt all warm and just right. He couldn't stop a part of him from wondering what his wand would feel like -- if all this was real of course.

He eagerly followed along as they went to the apothecary for potion's supplies and a bookstore, where Lily bought many more books than were on her booklist. The clerk shrunk the package down and said that it would expand when Lily tapped it with her wand when she got home. Harry loved the idea of packages that shrank and expanded.

They browsed around a lot of other stores but didn't buy much. Harry read about Owl Post, familiars, magical watches and kitchen things. They all went and had lunch at The Leaky Cauldron, then watched the witch leave through the fireplace, something called "floo travel", and then the Evans family took off their robes and went back into London.

He read sadly as over the next few months Lily and Petunia began to fight more and more and Petunia would yell about Lily leaving them for 'that magical world'. Lily thought Petunia was being silly, but she often wrote about how excited she was now that she had the magical world to explore all by herself and she liked being the 'special' one of the family.

Lily had been spending almost all of her time since they got back immersed in her magic books. She hardly ever played with Petunia anymore. Her diary was filled with what she read in her books about the magical world, the history of the school, and the potions she was trying to make. There were no more funny pranks with Petunia. There wasn't much for Harry to laugh about in those pages, and he found himself feeling sorry for his Aunt. She'd lost her playmate, and Lily would occasionally mention that Petunia was spending a lot of time in the garden with their Dad while Lily was in the garage making Potions or reading on the porch. She wasn't allowed to use her wand, but she could do potions, and she made a lot of them. Enough that she and her Dad had to go back to Diagon Alley to buy more ingredients so she would have enough for school. She also bought more books on potion making, she wrote that the textbook didn't explain things well at all and she needed books to explain the basics of how to prepare the ingredients and what the different terms meant.

She wrote about how on this trip, her Dad spent a lot of time talking to the Goblins about bank business and taxes, and how she had to wait to go shopping, but she didn't say what the business was about. Harry wondered if it had to do with moving his mum's inheritance into the magical world. She did write about their trip down to her new vault to put away some galleons her Dad had converted and how she really loved her shiny little gold key. Harry hoped that part was true because that sounded like a very fun ride. He marked the page because it had her vault number on it and he wanted to be able to find it again later.

Several pages further of nothing but potions and books and Harry wasn't feeling in the mood to read anymore. He closed the diary gently and sat for a while. He wasn't sure what to think. The whole thing could be a prank, an elaborate fairy tale written by his mother when she was little. But, it could be true. If it was true, then it meant a lot of things were different. He knew his parents met at school. So, it could mean his dad was a wizard. Maybe he wasn't unemployed and all the things Uncle Vernon used to like to yell. Maybe he just had a Wizard type job that nobody could talk about. Maybe that's why he never met any of his parent's friends; maybe they live in the wizard world. But, wizards could come to the muggle world, so that didn't make sense. There wasn't anything stopping them, definitely no wizard would be afraid of Uncle Vernon - not if he could do magic!

As he started to walk home to number 4, another thought, one that had been in the back of his mind the moment he read about vaults, kept demanding attention. Could that be why Uncle Vernon always said his parents left him nothing? Was it all hidden away in the wizard world and in the Goblin bank where his Uncle couldn't get to it? Was his mother's inheritance still sitting there in vault 2471 just waiting for Harry to come claim it?

Could he go claim it? Just show up? Was any of what he read truly real? He decided the only way to know would be to go there and look. If the Leaky Cauldron was there and he could walk out the back into Diagon Alley, and it was like she described, then it was real and the vault would be real.

He decided to find out. Tomorrow.

EOC

Revised Sept 9

Next: Chapter 7 - London Calling.


	7. Chpt 7: London Calling

**DISCLAIMER**: JKR ownes all Harry Potter characters and canon storyline. If you recognize it, its not mine.

**A/N:** I wanted to do something different... what I imagine would really happen if a young boy went alone to London at the tail end of rush hour. Someone who grew up isolated, never went anywhere, didn't watch tv or go to movies so had no visual idea of a major world class city like London. I, myself found London's major train stations intimidating at first -- and I'm an adult who is very used to DC's metro and the US's major airports.

I've been working on my verb tenses - hope I'm improving in your eyes!

* * *

**Chapter 7 - London Calling**

The next morning Harry woke up with a glow of excitement. Today he would know. He would go to London, find this pub and know if it was true or not, if he was a wizard or a freak.

He wanted to dress nicely for the bank so he put on his good school clothes; khaki pants and a nice shirt. After breakfast, he told Aunt Petunia he was going to the library for the day. She packed him a lunch and he took off straight for the Little Whinging commuter train station. He'd seen it when walking around, it was only a few blocks past the park. He knew the neighbor men who worked in London caught a train here every day. As he walked into the station, a major flaw in his plan occurred to Harry. He didn't have any money to buy a ticket. He stood out of sight against a pillar and wondered if he could sneak through without one. This might be a benefit to being small. Before he could figure out how to do this, a man in a business suit stopped just a couple feet in front of Harry.

"Bloody hell…Where did I put those tickets Doris gave me, always happens when I'm late!" The man felt in his pockets and looked through his wallet. "AAAH!" He exclaimed as he pulled out a ticket with a flourish. He didn't notice that another came along with it and floated to the ground while he rushed off to the turnstile.

Harry grinned, picked up the ticket and followed the man. _He looks like a guy going to London for sure!_ He told himself. He went through the turnstile, doing everything exactly as the man and then followed him onto a train. Feeling very proud of himself, he slid into a window seat and settled in to enjoy his very first train ride. His mind was full of all the things he hoped to see once he got to Diagon Alley and he barely noticed the changing scenery flying past or the various stops the train made at other stations much like Little Whinging's. Eventually, the train pulled into a large domed open area and came to a stop. Harry began paying attention again as everyone got up and left the carriage. He followed along -- this must be London.

He stepped out of the train into a moving stream of people; it was 100 times worse than the school hallways at lunchtime. Everyone around was so much taller than him, he couldn't even see where they were going -- where he was going. He kept getting knocked about by briefcases and handbags, few people noticed the small boy so far below their line of sight in the crowd. Harry breathed easier as the pressure suddenly eased and the people all seemed to instantly disappear off in different directions. He tried to decide on someone to follow, but they were all moving too fast and weaving between each other and each was gone before he could choose between them. When he slipped sideways to lean against an advertising sign and turned around, he saw where he came from. A bunch of trains were lined up, in what looked to Harry like parking slots, the tracks just seemed to end right in front of him. Each train had a sidewalk next to it and people were walking up and down the sidewalks. Some were getting on trains and some were getting off. _How do the trains turn around when they leave?_

He'd never seen so many people in his life, and they're walking everywhere, every direction. He didn't think there were this many people in all of Little Whinging. He tried to figure out where the majority of them went so he could follow them; a lot of people seemed to be going straight ahead and then off to the side through a tunnel. So, into the tunnel he went with the crowd, and, once again, he couldn't see anything over or around the taller adults, and most of them didn't see him.

First, he heard the sound. It was enormous, but he couldn't tell what it was. It didn't seem to belong to one source, but rather like it was made up of lots of sounds, all merged together into this … _thing_. It seemed almost alive. Harry didn't know about how sound can echo and build in tunnels when they are full of people. He also didn't know that the sound wasn't pushing at him, he was actually feeling a slight change in air pressure, but to him, it seemed like the sound was alive and beating on him. The roar made him think about the library books he read where someone would describe the sound of the sea. He felt very small against the combination of the sound, the closed in tunnel and the surrounding strange adults. He couldn't stop a shiver and told himself he was just cold.

He froze in surprise as once again the people in front of him seemed to melt away in different directions, leaving him standing a few steps inside the most immense room he had ever seen. He didn't know you could make rooms this big! You could put his whole school in here; you could put two of his school in here…

Although the people in front of him were gone, those behind were still coming and Harry was jostled this way and that as they tried to get past and around his still form. His smallness just seemed reinforced as he struggled to move to the side, away from the tunnel opening. The wow feeling he had as he first saw the room, quickly turned into a spurt of anxiety as he tried to find a safe place to stop and look around. There were so many people everywhere, all rushing and there seemed to be no place to safely stop without being in someone's way.

He finally saw some chairs and weaved through the crowd until he reached them, found an empty one and sank down in relief. It wasn't supposed to be like this, he never expected this; it was nothing like the train station he knew in Little Whinging. The stations he remembered the train stopping at on the way here were all like the one at home too, not this. He'd had no idea stations like this even existed. From the row of train parking spots in the big parking garage to this huge room, and all the people, nothing was like he thought it would be; nothing at all. Harry had thought he could simply walk off the train into a small station similar to Little Whinging's, go out into a street, again, much like Little Whinging, and ask for Charing Cross. He pulled his legs up and rested his chin on his knees, wrapping his arms around his legs. That plan had some holes in it, most definitely. He tried closing his eyes to think, but that just made things worse. It was much spookier to hear the echoes without seeing anything and know he was all alone with so many strangers around. He tried to find something to look at to make the funny feeling in his chest go away, something safe, something simple.

A flower cart. That's nice and safe, and not scary at all. He watched the man arranging buckets of flowers on the floor around his cart. People stopped, bought bunches and moved on. Simple, pleasant, normal. Maybe Aunt Petunia was on to something with wanting all that. Harry spent a while trying to guess who would buy which flowers. Sometimes he then followed the people with his eyes to see where they went. Like everyone else here, they all seemed to be going different places. At home, people went into the station and up to the one set of tracks you could see from the street. Then they got on a train or they came off a train and down the stairs to the street. There wasn't much of anything else **in** the station and everyone went the same places. There weren't all these other choices. Here, he couldn't tell which way led out, which way led to other trains, or what all these other choices really were. Well, maybe he knew one. He remembered local busses would pull up to an area off to the side of his station, so maybe the signs with pictures of busses went to areas like that. He started to understand that he really knew next to nothing about traveling by train; train stations or what things connected to train stations.

The feeling in his chest that had been unwinding started to twist back up. He took a deep breath and simply watched the flower man again and the people who bought his flowers. Maybe if he watched long enough, it would start to make sense. Individual bits of the room gradually became less strange. There were stairs that led up to another floor with railings. He saw a woman go up the stairs and then later she was at a table near the railing with a cup and pastry. A lot of people seemed to be going down different sets of stairs that looked like they had escalators. Harry couldn't figure out where those went, but they didn't come back up and he couldn't see those people appear anywhere else. That must be a lift against the wall there, and he saw shops -- lots and lots of shops. He never imagined a train station would be like a mall.

People must buy tickets at those machines over there. They came away with bits of paper like the man dropped. Over there looked a lot like the ticket booth at the movie theatre in Little Whinging. He wondered what the difference was between the tickets from the machines and the ones from the windows. _Why have both? How do you know which place to get your ticket?_ The signs didn't make a lot of sense to Harry. He could read some of the words, but he didn't know what they meant or they didn't make sense and there weren't sentences to help him figure them out. It was like learning to read labels all over again! The most common signs had numbers on them with a minus between them, but the smaller number was first, and anyways, why would they put math problems up on signs? That didn't make sense either. He didn't see Charing Cross Road on a sign anywhere.

He decided it was time to get up and look around; he'd been sitting here a long time and the chairs were empty except for him and two other people. Maybe if he went around some of the booths and looked down some hallways, he'd see some signs that made sense and maybe even one for Charing Cross. First he took another look at the escalators. They went down so far he couldn't get a good look at the bottom and he was afraid if he went down there, he wouldn't be able to find the way back up, so that was definitely out. He circled around some of the kiosks and small booths, making sure he was never too far from the chairs. The idea of not being able to see the chairs or the flower man made his stomach flop.

Harry finally noticed one of the Way Out signs. He stared at it and the little pointy arrow for a few seconds; then looked back at his familiar bit of this confusing place. From where he stood, he couldn't see where the arrow led. Hmmm… He moved slowly in the direction of the arrow, constantly turning back to check that the chairs or the flower man were in sight. He saw another sign with an arrow pointing out a turn in the path. If he followed the second arrow, he wouldn't be able to see the flower man; the chairs were already almost out of his sight, he could only see a corner of the last one. But, if he went, he'd get outside. He bit his lip, thinking. He told himself that the whole point was to get outside to Charing Cross Road, but he had begun to worry about getting back home, about becoming lost in all the bustle and people. He was already not sure that he could find his way back to his train's parking spot, they all looked alike and he hadn't seen anything that said Little Whinging. If he followed those arrows and they had lots of turns, how would he get back to here? What if there were more rooms like this one with more tunnels? He thought he knew the right tunnel from here, but if there was another room, he wouldn't know that tunnel. But he really wanted to find the pub…he needed to know.

'_I did bring a lunch,_' he told himself. _'I can always ask someone how to get back to the room with the flower man and ticket booths. If it takes a while, that's ok. I don't have to be home until before dinner.' _With those thoughts, he gathered his courage, turned his back on the familiar and followed the arrows into the unknown. He wouldn't have understood if someone told him this would be the last time he would ever unconsciously behave like a Gryffindor.

There were several turns, and some wide areas that may have been rooms, but he couldn't see around the adults very well, so he only ever saw one side of the area's he passed through. He watched carefully and tried to stay near walls so he could see things to mark his way to come back. After slipping along the wall of one small room, he realized it wasn't a room at all, but a sort of space in front of the doors to the outside. He grinned and darted out, certain he was not far from his goal. He may have to walk for twenty or thirty minutes, but it shouldn't be hard to find.

As he hit the sidewalk, a big red bus pulled up in front of him and people poured out. The bus was huge, Harry had never seen anything like it and there were two floors! In a bus! Gawking, he was caught up in the crowd and pulled down the sidewalk. Sometimes he really hated being small, grown ups never seemed to see him when they were walking. He managed to work his way to the side and grabbed a sign post and squeezed to its other side on the curb, then looked up and once again was startled into total stillness. People, busses, cars - especially big black ones, everything bustling, moving, and above it all, huge solid buildings all jammed up together. It looked so confusing, like there was more than one street here, with tons of lanes, and then the noise found its way through his daze. Honks, shouts, he thought the roar in the tunnel was bad, this was worse and he felt like he was being swallowed up. He knew buildings in London were supposed to be big, but he'd never thought it would be like this. He'd never really thought much about what that meant; he'd thought it would be kind of like the shopping area in Little Whinging - just a little taller and more blocks. He never knew taller buildings meant that he felt much smaller and like he didn't matter a bit. Harry was feeling intimidated and vulnerable. Of course, he didn't know those words, but this day was burning those feelings deep into his memory.

He swallowed. The knot in his throat didn't seem to go away. It was time to ask someone where Charing Cross Road was. It might be just around the corner, it could even be this road and the pub just over there. He just had to ask, that's all, just ask.

"Excuse me." He croaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Excuse me?"

Nobody paid him any mind. He tried again, a little louder. "Excuse me?"

A man who had moved up to the bus looked down at Harry. "Yes?" He sounded irritated and grouchy.

Very politely and carefully, Harry asked "Can you tell me Sir, how to get to Charing Cross Road? And about how long it will take to walk there?"

The man snorted and laughed. "That's in a whole nother part of London, you can't walk there. If you tried, you still be walking come dark. Best thing is to take the Underground from here." He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "It's in there, you can buy tickets there too if you don't have a pass already." His gaze sharpened as he took in the small boy. "You look awfully young to be out here on your own. Are you lost? We can find a bobby to take you home." He started looking around and put a hand down to catch hold of Harry's shoulder.

Harry's eyes widened and he backed up. If he was brought home by the police and they said he was in London, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would… well, he didn't know what they'd do, but it would be bad. Very bad. He twisted out from under the hand, squeezed back into the crowd and tried to head up the sidewalk to find the door he came out. He heard the man's voice, "Hey, did anyone see where that kid went? Little boy, dark hair? Lost, looking for Charing Cross? Kid! Where'd you go!"

In a panic, Harry bolted into the first door he found and ran down the hallway looking to hide. After several turns, he slid down against the wall next to a vending machine. He had to admit to himself, this whole adventure wasn't going well, not at all. He had no idea what the Underground was, but it sounded like it would be downstairs. Maybe it's those escalators, but the man said he'd need a ticket and he had no money to buy one. He could stand around waiting for someone to drop one, but he still wouldn't know how to use the Underground and make sure he got to Charing Cross. If he needed a ticket and he had to go back inside, maybe it's another type of train and what if it's like the other type with all those parking spaces and tunnels? How would he find the right one? He can't ask anyone now; he never thought people would think he was lost or too small to be out by himself. He's always out by himself at home and nobody ever said anything. London was obviously different about boys wandering around alone; he didn't dare risk someone handing him over to the police.

Harry wanted to curl up, go to sleep and wake up in his cupboard. It was all much more complicated than he imagined. He couldn't walk there, the man made that clear. He didn't know London was so big that it was possible to walk until dark and not get where you were going. He'd thought it would be a lot like Little Whinging, just more of it and a few taller buildings. But everything in London is big. The busses are big, the train stations are big, the crowds are big. He needed a bigger word than big. He sighed and rested his forehead on his pulled up knees. So, he can't walk there and the thought of dealing with another train system, he hated to admit it, was too scary, too much. Today he'd had too many surprises and things he wasn't expecting, he wanted it over, right now. He raised his head and thought about going home. As he slowly took in the area around him, Harry realized one more thing. He had no idea where he was; he wasn't before, but now he really was lost.

He bolted upright in a blur of big eyes and wild arms. Heart pounding, he tried to think of how he got here and how to go backwards. He headed in the direction he knew he came from but when he hit the first turn, he had no idea which way to go. Nothing looked familiar. Then he remembered the man, he couldn't go back that way, whichever way it was, because the man could still be looking for him. He may even have told the police! He's got to get back to the big room.

The next hour was spent in a state of increasing panic. He couldn't find the big room. That lovely, familiar, big room. He started out walking and ended up trotting down hallways & tunnels, not even realizing that he doubled back on himself and went in circles several times. He'd passed multiple entrances to the main station and skirted sections of it, but he never recognized those areas as belonging to his big room. At one point, he ended up in another multi-platform bay, Harry's 'parking garage'. This one didn't have the trains nose in on terminating tracks, but rather the tracks were parallel to the bay entrances and a overhead bridge accessed the various platforms with descending staircases. Harry took one look at the place and turned white. All of his fears about the station being made up of endless large rooms and train 'parking garages' now seemed to be coming true and he was beginning to think he would never see anything familiar again. He never noticed an odd, swirling breeze begin to move through the space, fanning out from Harry himself. Unbeknownst to him, accidental magic was rearing its head once more, making his eroding emotional state obvious to anyone with the ability to recognize the signs.

A group of teenagers entered a tunnel and Harry decided to follow them, he was feeling desperate and hoped they might lead him somewhere he recognized. He followed them through several turnings and then his panic grew as the group entered a shop. He continued trotting down the hallway on the edges of a full-blown panic attack, his hair lifting in its own wind and leaving in his wake blown over wastebaskets and shop displays, when he stopped, choked, and the air stilled. The flower man was just ahead… Harry ran, his eyes welling up in relief, while behind him shopkeepers cursed about those odd wind currents that sometimes moved through the station. Once in his section of the big room, he went to a corner slightly behind a booth where he could see the flower man if he leaned to the side, but nobody could see him. He slid to the ground, trembling, hugging his knees, fighting tears and gulping for air.

After a few minutes, the trembling eased but Harry stayed put, head buried in his knees. He wasn't ready to face the world again, not just yet.

He heard a rustling off to the left and stiffened. A soft male voice spoke gently, "Bit off a little more than you could chew, hmm? This place can be somewhat daunting at first."

Every nerve went on alert. They taught at school not to talk to strangers!

The voice continued in its calm, lazy tone. "Settle down, mate. You won't do yourself any good if you panic. You'll rush and do the wrong thing then and get yourself into more of a spot. So, just calm down and take a deep breath. I'm not going to hurt you and I won't come any closer. I thought you could do with some advice and maybe a hand finding the right train home." The voice paused. "You are going home aren't you? You're not running away? Because if you are, I've got to recommend you head somewhere else. London is not the city for small ones like you. At your age, you're better off running to a small town. Much more likely to find someone decent to take you in, the foster homes are better. This city is much too dangerous for young ones on their own. Course, the best thing to do is not to run, if you can help it, but sometimes things at home require running. Doesn't look like that with you, but you can never tell what --"

_I'm not stupid enough to run away, not when my life is getting better and better…I'm not stupid!_

Harry interrupted; "I'm not running away. I just wanted to come and see something, but it turned out to be much harder than I thought it would be to get there. Now I just want to go home." Harry paused, turned his head on his knee and looked at the young man sitting a few feet away. "What did that word mean?"

The man smiled. "I just finished saying an awful lot of words. Which one was it?"

Harry's voice was a little firmer "It was in what you first said, about here. Daunting."

"Ahhh, that one. Well, it's a very good word. A place, a situation, or even a person can be daunting. It's a feeling that's a bit hard to describe. It's similar to intimidating or overwhelming. A bit of scary thrown in there for good measure with some uncomfortable. Many would also say discouraging, but I don't agree. I tend to think that a daunting situation makes you feel discouraged, I don't think it's a core part of daunting. So, do you think I used the right word?"

Harry sighed and nodded, rubbing his cheek on his kneecap. "Yes, it's very daunting here, alright. I'm quite daunted." He looked down, paused again and then added, "It's not good to talk to strangers. I shouldn't be talking to you."

The man nodded. "Normally, your right. You shouldn't. But there are times when you need help and you have to talk to a stranger. Like when asking directions. If I were to go into a strange town, I may need to ask someone for directions and they'd likely be a stranger. If I didn't ask, I could end up in trouble and lost."

Harry thought about the man he talked to outside while the calm voice continued.

"In here, I think the main point would be not to let a stranger take you anywhere. You could talk to someone for help, if they seemed an alright sort, as long as you didn't go anywhere. If they offered to take you to a train, like I will, then the important thing to do is keep your eyes open and don't let someone grab onto you. Watch where you're going. You should be headed for the trains, not for the exit or a bathroom. If someone tries to take you somewhere that's not your train home, that's when you scream and run. Does that make sense?"

Harry thought carefully for a few moments and then nodded again.

"You see, in your situation, I think you need to talk to someone to get help. I don't think you will be able to get home on your own. You could talk to one of the people who work here and tell them you need help to get home. They may help you, but they're more likely to just call your parents. You have to decide if that's a problem for you."

"How do you know I can't get home? How do you know I need help?" a little defensively.

A slight chuckle was heard. "Well, besides the fact you're sitting in a corner and were shaking like a leaf?" He sighed. "I don't want you to panic again, but I was watching you for a while, like you were watching the flower seller and his customers. I hang out in the train station a lot during the day. I enjoy watching the people coming and going and its open, but out of the weather. You stand out because you're a little guy and all alone. Young children your age always have adults with them."

Stung, Harry broke in "I'm older than I look, I'm just small. Everyone thinks I'm 6, but I'm 8."

"Still, 8 yr olds don't usually come to London alone. I saw you come off the platform, all expectant and bright eyed, only to have reality hit. You didn't know what you were getting into, did you? I wasn't going to approach you or say anything to you if you found your feet or if someone came to meet you, but neither of those things happened and you're still on your own and looking like you're in over your head and you need a hand. I didn't want you to get desperate and end up in worse trouble."

"There's worse than this? I went outside and it was horrible; a man tried to take me to the police cuz he thought I was lost, and then I did get lost in here for over an hour I think. I have no money, no ticket, and I don't think I can find the right train home. If my Aunt and Uncle find out I did this, something really bad will happen, so I can't let anyone call home, but I don't know how to get home."

"Yea, that sounds bad, but trust me, there is much worse than that. This is nothing. We're inches away from solving this one and nobodies been hurt and its still daylight. We're golden."

Harry smiled a little.

"We should probably introduce ourselves; I can't keep calling you mate or kid. I'm Bran." He looked at Harry with his eyebrows raised. He didn't hold out his hand. For some reason, this breach of etiquette made Harry feel better.

"I'm Harry."

"Right then. Let's start on your problem. First things first. Ticket. Where's the one you used to get here?"

"The machine kept it."

"You only bought a single trip ticket? That's not very good planning Harry. What was your plan to get home?"

Harry bit his lip. "I didn't actually buy the ticket. I picked up one a man dropped out of his wallet when he was trying to find his ticket." He shrugged. "I didn't have much of a plan, I didn't think much about needing money."

"We'll talk more about plans later. Once we solve the basics, then we can cover how to plan better so this doesn't happen to you again, alright?" He looked at Harry meaningfully.

Harry nodded his agreement. Plans sounded good. He definitely needed to learn how to make better plans.

"This may fall a bit under the plan discussion, but once you realized you needed tickets to travel, why didn't you turn back? What did you think you would do for the return trip? Were you going to stand around until someone dropped the right kind of ticket?"

He didn't really want to answer; for some reason he didn't want to look like a fool in front of Bran. Looking back, his plan didn't sound so good. He ended up answering very softly and vaguely. "I was going to get some money there, where I was going."

Bran tilted his head thoughtfully. "Is that a definite sure thing? Are you absolutely positive that if you get to this place you were going that there would be money you could have?"

Harry's voice came out even softer. "No, it's not definite. Its part of why I wanted to go, I wanted to find out if it was there."

"So, you could have gotten there and been even more stuck? Further out from the station here, in the middle of one of the largest cities in the world with no cash and no way to get any and no way home except for asking the police to call home -- if you could find a policeman?" Bran looked at Harry's bowed head; decided the point had been made and continued in a softer friendly tone. "That's something to remember when you plan, Harry. Always have a way back and plan for things not working out. You really didn't take the time to think this through at all, did you?" He smiled in case the boy looked up.

Another soft voice, but a little stronger and defensive. "I brought a lunch."

Bran laughed. "That's something then. You were thinking some, Harry! We'll just build on that."

Harry looked up and found himself smiling at the sound of Bran's laugh, and for the first time in ages, the tight feeling in his chest unwound again.

"We'll get you a new ticket then. Now we need to know where you're going. Where's home?"

"Little Whinging, but I've no money."

Bran stared. "Never heard of it, and I'll spot you the ticket. Devil of a name, poor place! Do you know what county you live in?"

"I know it's in Surrey."

"That's a start. Ok, we're looking for a south heading line. How long was the ride? More than 30 minutes? 2 hours? Did it make a lot of stops? Do people in your area work in London, are there commuters?"

"It took ages, over an hour I think. It made a bunch of stops at little stations that looked like ours, and yes, some of the men in the neighborhood work in London."

"Sounds like we should be able to find a commuter line. Now it's time to hit the ticket booth." Bran got up and dusted off his pants. "We'll look for a teller who looks really friendly and helpful. You never want to get in line for a grouch when you've got lots of questions and you don't really know what you need. The grouch won't want to be helpful and they may sell you anything just to get rid of you."

He winked down at Harry, who had risen and was standing in front of him. "That would be a mess, wouldn't it, to end up somewhere new?" He smiled down and then got a thoughtful look on his face. "Yes, that would be a mess….I may have to fib a little to the agent, so whatever I say, just nod and go along with me, all right?"

Harry nodded. He was used to that from Aunt Petunia. He followed Bran around the booth as they made for the ticket windows. He heard Bran muttering "Little Whinging, Surrey, on a commuter line…" Bran turned and paused "Harry, do you know the name of the street your station is on at home?"

"Yes, it's Hopscotch Circle"

Bran turned back, muttering about suburbia. They stood for a moment off to the side of the ticket booths and picked out their agent. Luckily, there wasn't a line so they marched straight up to her window and Bran began to spin their story. He told the lady all about how he's seeing his neighbors godson home on the train for him because he was called into work for an emergency, but his neighbor forgot to give him all the info and he only knows the name of the town Little Whinging in Surrey, it should be a commuter line, and the lad here told him the station is on Hopscotch Circle and could she please help them find the right train and get them 2 tickets? One return trip adult and a one-way child.

Harry was amazed at his smooth delivery of the lie, and also that Bran bought a ticket as well. He told himself that Bran was right before. As long as someone doesn't try to take him somewhere else, he should be ok, and he's been standing right here and heard Bran buy tickets for Little Whinging, not some other place. He listened as the woman searched her system and finally found his town and the right station. She almost sent them to Greater Whinging, but Bran had her double check the address of the station and then she found her mistake and fixed it. Harry saw that this whole ticket business had a lot of room for mistakes. He wouldn't want to end up in Greater Whinging!

Bran slid in some money and the woman slid out the tickets and told him a number and a time. He smiled, thanked her and grinned down at Harry. "Let's go. We're lucky; the next train will be leaving in 25 minutes."

They moved into the middle of the room and Bran stopped. "Time for our first lesson in riding trains. The number she gave us is our Platform number. It's where we go to board the train." He paused, Harry already had a question.

"What's a platform?"

"We need the very basics don't we? Right, here's Train 101. Do you remember when you got off the train and you were on a walkway that led away from the train to an area where all the walkway's joined up?" Harry nodded. "Those walkways are called Platforms. Each one has a number assigned. You follow the signs to that number and you can find your train."

Harry's face lightened. Now those signs with numbers made more sense… but what about the minus signs? He asked and found that's for a number range. It meant that all the platforms between those numbers were that way. It's a shortcut so they don't have to list all the numbers if they were in order. He liked that, it made sense, like multiplication. Bran looked startled when Harry mentioned that, so Harry told him how he liked how times was a shortcut for adding lots of the same numbers, just like the ranges. "Your 8?" "Yep, I'm 8." "Suburban schools really are better."

Bran then explained the other signs in the station and had Harry find the way to their platform; this time he enjoyed moving through the station, now that he knew what the signs meant. Soon they were standing in front of the platform and Harry was confused. He saw two trains, one on each side. He looked up for help.

"Now is the tricky part. We have to figure out which of these two is ours. Let's look at the tickets. You know how the train doesn't end in Little Whinging? It goes on to other towns? The town where it finally stops is what they will call the train. Our ticket says we are on the Portsmouth train. So, we look at these signs here to see which one says Portsmouth. We take the train on the left. Understand Harry?"

"Yes. So I won't ever see a train that says Little Whinging?"

"If your town were larger, it might be listed underneath Portsmouth on the signs, like you see some of the others, but it's tiny, so it won't be on there. But, as long as our ticket says both names and we match the ticket, we'll be fine. If you're ever confused, you can ask one of the men in uniform on the platform and they'll know the right train. Let's get on down a ways."

They found an almost empty carriage and took seats in the back so they could talk about planning and not be overheard. Harry settled in and nervously asked his questions. "How do I pay you back for the ticket? Why did you come along?"

"I don't see how you can pay me back; that would be tough for a child your age. If we ever see each other again and you have the money, then you can pay me back. Otherwise, just do the same for someone else sometime. It really wasn't all that much money, mate. Don't worry about it." He shrugged. "I came along because when we were joking about the agent messing up and sending you someplace else, I got a bit worried that it could actually happen. If I just went home, I'd sit and worry if you got on the right train or if you got off at the right station, maybe even if the agent really did mess up the ticket. This way, I'll know you got to the right place and if there are any problems, I'll be there to lend a hand. When we get there, if it's your station and you recognize it and know how to get home, and its close, then I'll just get on the return train and head back. It's a nice day for a train ride anyway and there should be some pleasant scenery once we get out of the city."

The train started moving then and Harry couldn't help but try and look back out the window to the station and London. He failed. He didn't get his question answered and still didn't know if the wizarding world was real or not. He looked up startled as a man in a uniform walked down the aisle asking for tickets. Bran handed over theirs to be punched and asked if the train stopped at Little Whinging and how long it would be. When the answer came back 1 hour 10; Harry felt that knot unwind fully and try to come up his throat and out his eyes. The tension and fear from the whole day suddenly overwhelmed him and he couldn't stop the tears this time.

Bran looked at him worriedly. He wasn't prepared for tears now that everything was resolved and he was woefully out of practice in comforting children.

Harry whispered "It's over? It's really all over and I'm almost home?"

Bran made a sympathetic sound and slowly pulled the boy into a loose embrace against his side. Soothing words automatically flowed as he rubbed the child's back and told him it was over, he would be home soon and it's ok to cry, to let it all out. Old standby's, but new to Harry. He turned his face into Bran's ribs, took his advice once more and let the tears flow. He had no memory of being comforted while crying; it was a nice feeling. Embarrassing, but worth it. Now that it was over, he admitted to himself exactly how terrified he had been ever since he stepped out of the train and into that crowd.

A little while later, Harry stopped crying, sat up and wiped his face with his shirt. He blushed and mumbled a thank you and sorry, he'd been so scared before, he'd try to be braver. Bran chuckled and rubbed the back of his head a bit before putting his arm along the top of the seat back. Harry was a bit ashamed at how much better that made him feel, just knowing it was up there if he needed it and he wasn't alone.

"Don't be ashamed of being scared Harry. Scared doesn't mean you aren't brave. You were very brave to continue on, even though you were afraid. Fear is perfectly natural, and it's not a bad thing. Scared people who keep their heads are careful, they make less mistakes than those foolish types who just get ideas and rush about, thinking everything will work out; leaving it all up to chance, don't plan carefully or think ahead…"

There was a bitter tone to Bran's voice, but he stopped, looked down at Harry, rubbed the child's head again and continued in a normal voice once more. "Be scared, Harry; it's a natural feeling…it's supposed to make you stop and think, so do it. Fear is just a survival mechanism to make us either run or slow down, look around and move carefully. Only idiots are never frightened Harry, they're too dumb to see what's in front of them." He laughed and tousled Harry's hair, "Those are the ones who get killed off young; they aren't around long enough to breed into the gene pool. You could say we are here because our ancestors had the sense to be scared at the right time and act appropriately." He confided this with a nudge of his body and a grin.

It was all odd, what he said, but even odder, it made Harry feel better. He decided that maybe Bran was right, it's not bad to be scared. When he thought about it, there were a lot of good things he'd done because he was scared, like run & hide from Dudley; get lower grades so Uncle Vernon wouldn't get mad; even staying out of Uncle Vernon's way at home. So maybe it's ok to be scared of London and the train station, he just needed to figure out how to get around it, like with everything else. Actually, he wasn't really scared of the train station anymore now that Bran had explained it. It made him nervous, but that's not scared. So, he just needed to get things explained and then maybe they won't be scary -- he hoped.

"Bran?"

"Yes?"

"Could you explain more about the train station, how it works, and about London? How you find things and what everything is? Like you did in the train station? I was thinking that the train station wasn't so bad after you explained the signs and I knew how to find my train, so maybe London wouldn't be scary either, once I knew more." He sighed, "It just wasn't anything like I imagined it would be, and that made it all worse."

Bran thought for a few moments. As he opened his mouth to speak, Harry's stomach growled loudly and he laughed instead.

"I can do that, but why don't you pull out that famous lunch of yours and eat while we talk. There's still a lot of time left before you're home and I don't think your stomach wants to wait; it's well after 1 already."

Harry returned his grin, pulled up his satchel from the floor and unloaded his lunch onto the half table in their section.

"Do you want to share with me? I've got more than enough, Aunt Petunia packed my afternoon snack too cuz I said I might not be home until late." He pulled out a thick sandwich and a half, several plastic bags with fruit slices and more with vegetables and a thermos and a plastic water bottle covered in condensation. Bran stared at their bounty in amazement. He stretched out his hand and felt the bottle.

"How the devil is that still cold? You hiding a cooler in there too?"

"Naw, Aunt Petunia keeps these in the freezer for me to take with my lunches. They keep the fruit and veg cool in my bag and thaw by lunchtime. I just have to remember to bring home the bottles to refill and freeze again."

"That's handy, she sure believes in fruit and veg. No crisps, candy?" He said the last hopefully.

While Bran was speaking, Harry nodded to the first part, then popped a piece of broccoli into his mouth and shook his head to the second. "No, I like this actually. We both like this. She's been trying to get my cousin to eat less junk and more of this stuff, but he won't. I've never had crisps or candy. I'm not allowed, but I don't think I mind too much. I wouldn't want to end up like Dudley." He grinned cheekily up at Bran and handed him half a sandwich. "She told me on one of our Sundays, that she thought of letting me eat some of that when she was trying to make me grow and gain weight, but changed her mind. She said it would likely make me grow out instead of up and I'd end up fat, and that wouldn't do. So she just makes me drink lots of milk and eat lots of snacks like this." He pointed to the table.

Bran reached for a thick carrot stick and scooped up some cherry tomatoes. "I'm forced to agree with her, to some extent. This has to be the healthiest lunch I've ever seen and it's definitely not skimpy. You're not small because of small meals; that's for sure. What's in the thermos? Vegetable soup?" He teased.

"Milk. I told you I have to drink a lot of it." He wrinkled his nose and poured some into the cup. "She read an article a couple years ago that said Americans became tall and had good teeth after WWII because they drank a lot of milk. She has a thing about teeth. Ever since then, well…" He lifted his cup in a cheers motion. "You can have the water if you want, or we can try to find another cup if you want to share the milk. I can always drink another glass when I get home."

Bran took the water and they settled in with their drinks and nibbled out of the baggies, Harry pushed the last sandwich half onto Bran, and listened attentively as he began to talk about London and planning.

"So you need to know about London. Let's think about what you need to know and I'll help you see where you can go to find things out, all right? You'll remember it better if I make you figure it out instead of just telling you everything. Now tell me, what do you need that you didn't have this time?"

Harry stared ahead, unfocused. When he thought he knew, he turned back to Bran and answered. "A better plan, money, a return train ticket, and where in London Charing Cross is and how to get there on what a man said is the Underground, plus what the Underground is and how it works."

Bran was impressed. "When you decide to think something through Harry, you do an excellent job. That's a very good list. Charing Cross huh?" He looked down at Harry carefully, "Do you know the address? It's a good sized street."

His small face became worried, "All she wrote was that it's near an Underground station, but I didn't know what that was. There wasn't anything else. Is that bad?"

Bran's eyes flashed for a moment and then he looked out the opposite window while he replied. "That will help narrow things down. You couldn't ask her more about what she wrote?" in a carefully neutral tone.

It was now Harry's turn to gaze out the window. He softly replied "No, she's dead. She wasn't thinking of writing instructions, she was just writing stuff she saw and did." He changed the subject, "So where do I find this stuff?"

"Let's think this through out loud. Where do you think adults find this stuff out?"

"Someone tells them, or shows them like you did me?"

"That would work in some cases, but not always. Plus, it's more than a little inconvenient to have to find someone who already knows what you need, especially when you're going traveling. Let me try this way. What do you do all day, where do you go?

He was confused; what did that have to do with anything? But he answered anyway. "I go to the park or the playground. I go to the Library a lot or I mess around in the back garden." He shrugged.

"What's at the Library? What type of things have you seen there?"

He looked at Bran like he was nuts. "It's just a normal library. It has books and computers, tables, chairs, the checkout desk and the librarians, their office, the card catalog…" His voice trailed off. He remembered how he was going to look up vegetable gardens and he got an idea.

"You mean they look them up in books at the Library?" He looked up at Bran, all excited. The library was a familiar place, nothing scary there!

Bran tapped Harry's nose with his finger. "Spot on! Libraries are excellent places for information. The best sources are the Librarians. If you can't find something, they can help you find it, and if they don't have it there, they will often get it for you from another Library or resource. If you want to know something Harry, always start at the Library. If you can use the computer, you can look things up there also, but best to start with the books."

As Harry thought about this, his happy face fell a bit. "Where do I look? I don't really know what I'm looking for. What kind of books will tell me about London?"

"Think about the people you saw today at the station. There were lots of business people, but there were also lots of one other type of people. Some of them had luggage or backpacks. What are those type of people?"

"People traveling?"

"Yes. Have you ever heard the term Tourist?" Harry shook his head. "I'm surprised you haven't. Anyway, tourists are people who have packed up and gone somewhere to visit or on a holiday. It's very often somewhere they've never been because they want to see something new or a different country. Now, these people are like you. They need to know all about London. Where things are, how to get around, how to use the trains and the Underground - and yes, the Underground is another train system. Some places call them subway's. They're for getting around in London proper while the train we're on now is for getting around between towns. Tourists use books called Guidebooks. They also get maps. There are lots of tourist maps of London and I'm sure the Library has them as well and you could look at them. Someone could point out Charing Cross road for you. The better maps for tourists will also show the Underground stops. Then you can look at the section of Charing Cross near the stop and see where it is in relation to the station."

"Are you getting all this Harry? Is it too much at once?"

"NO! This is perfect! I never thought about the Library having books for travelers and that they would tell me about London." He was practically bouncing in his seat and waving his apple slice around.

"Yes, it's quite handy. Now, you really shouldn't try to come back to London until you've looked for where you're going on a map and you should ask the Librarian to get you a map of the Underground. If I'd known you needed the Underground info, we could have picked some up at the train station before we left, but that won't help us now. The Underground maps and info should be free and the guidebooks will explain how it all works, at least the better ones do."

"Now we come to the hard part. Money. How will you get money to buy a ticket for the train and the Underground. Do you have access to any money at home? An allowance perhaps?"

Harry shook his head.

"Your too young for a job, but maybe you could do odd jobs or help people out and they may give you tips? You know, offer to help carry things for women and hope they give you a tip - sometimes they won't, or maybe weed their garden for a hour for a few pounds?" He looked down at Harry.

The boy looked doubtful. "I'm kinda small. When I go to the market for Aunt Petunia, people are always offering to carry stuff for **me**, they might laugh at me if I tried to do that, but I could try. I'm a good weeder; that one may work."

"Well, there's also the vending machine bit… I shouldn't be telling you this… I can't believe I'm going to tell you this. Its one of the ways I used to get money when I was a boy."

He looked stern, but didn't do a very good job of it. "Don't get mad at me if you get in trouble for this one, but sometimes people forget to get their change out of machines. You can check the coin returns. This one is tricky, because sometimes people get mad, especially if it's their change and they come back for it, only to see you making off with it. So, if you do this, make sure there isn't anyone watching you specifically and that you don't see the person who left the change. Also, check on the floor around the machines, especially the train ones. People get in a hurry and they don't pick up coins they drop. Another place to find money is in street gutters. Sometimes coins fall out of peoples pockets and roll into the gutter. You can even check in the playground. Some kids have coins in their pockets and it falls out while they play. That one's best done either at night after they've all left, or in the morning before they come. If you see something in the daytime, again, be careful picking it up because someone may claim it, even if it's not theirs."

He looked down to find a rapt face turned upward, soaking in every word. He groaned to himself, _this is not the right stuff to teach the boy, this is irresponsible…_, but he stomped on his conscience and continued while a long forgotten part of himself, deep inside, began to laugh.

"Another handy place is at home, in the sofa or chair cushions. You'll probably find a fair amount in whatever chair or sofa your Uncle uses. That's the one you must be the most careful doing."

"How will I know if I've enough?"

"The information at the library should tell you how much it costs. You can always go the station at home and ask them how much a return ticket to London costs for a child or check on the machines. There's usually a chart or something listing fares."

His voice turned stern, this time for real. "Harry, this is VERY important. I want you to promise me you won't ever try to go to London again without a return ticket in your pocket."

Harry nodded and promised aloud. "I won't, I promise. I didn't like how it felt when I didn't know how I would get home. I don't want that to ever happen again."

"Good. That is the very first rule of ANY plan, ever. You must always be able to retreat, or get home, unless you plan not to go home. Never forget to plan for after the first part of the adventure, the way down the mountain so to speak. Every journey or adventure has two parts Harry. The way there and the way back. The way there is more fun, so people tend to focus on that, but the way back is the most important part. Getting there is no good unless you return, that would be turning a success into a failure. Ruins an excellent adventure!" Another head tousle and grin exchange. "Think of it as like the explorers. Do you really think the famous guys were the first ones there? Of course not! They were just the first ones to come back. Every adventure, every task has two parts Harry, its incomplete without both."

"What do you mean by task?"

"Everything. Even things like cooking dinner. If you never cleared the table or washed the dishes, pretty soon you'd have nothing to eat off of, or cook in, and you'd not be able to see the table through the mess. The task of dinner isn't done until you've finished putting things away and doing the wash-up. The second part's not glamorous, but it's important. If it doesn't get done, there's no more first part."

Harry nodded again. He thought Bran was an odd person, but he liked how he told Harry things, and talked to him as though he were smart and could understand grown up stuff. People rarely spoke to Harry, especially like this. It felt like the kind of stuff fathers would tell their sons and he liked the warm feeling of the man next to him and his arm over the seat and how his hand sometimes dropped down to pat Harry's shoulder or tousle his hair, like he wasn't even thinking about it. Harry couldn't remember anyone ever touching him with such careless affection. The last touch he recalled was that odd short hug from his Aunt when grades came out, and before that, well, he didn't remember anything. He self-consciously leaned closer into Bran and rested his head on him, soaking up the rare comfort and the barely there sensation of Bran's hand briefly cupping Harry's head against him. For a day that had some really bad parts in it, this part was really good. It made him not even mind so much that he didn't find The Leaky Cauldron. He did find Bran and that was something.

Important business done, they settled back into the journey. Bran talked to Harry about the things they passed and they chatted about meaningless topics for quite a while. Eventually, the announcement said Little Whinging and they rose to stand by the doors, Harry's impromptu picnic long ago put away in his satchel. As they pulled into the station, Harry turned to Bran with a grin lighting up his face. This was home. He'd made it.

Out on the platform, they checked the timetable and found the return train would be in 40 minutes. Bran settled on a bench to wait and Harry bounced on his toes next to him.

"I can wait with you, homes just a few minutes that way." He waved his hand in the general direction of Privet Drive. He was reluctant to leave, to separate from his new friend. "Thanks for everything." He scuffed the toe of his shoe and looked shy. "I don't think I would have made it so well without you. And now I know how to plan for when I go back, although it's going to be a while before then. You really helped me, and I want you to know I'm thankful, I really am." He looked at Bran with a very earnest expression.

"That was very well said Harry, I appreciate it and your welcome. I'm glad it's all worked out. You don't need to stay, I'm sure you'd like to run off and play with your friends. Maybe one or two of them are waiting to hear about your adventure?" He stood and turned Harry towards the stairwell.

"I don't have any friends. I'm hoping that I may get one next year, or maybe the year after that. If that doesn't work out, it's not too bad. The other kids have started letting me play with them, now that Dudley lets them alone and that's a lot of fun. It's more than I've ever had before and if things stay like this until I change schools, it's still good enough."

Bran stopped and looked down at Harry, concerned. "Are you sure it's good enough Harry?"

He watched the boy bite his lip, his face so serious.

"Yes. Sometimes, it's not good to want things, to want too much…to be greedy. Good is enough, enough's alright."

Bran was floored. The child simply looked up at him. Bran was filled with the desire to take him home with him where he'd have a dozen friends and be free to want everything in sight, including candy and crisps. _He's much too young to think wanting's bad… aren't children supposed to be selfish, greedy little blighters? They aren't supposed to have already learned such hard lessons._

Bran squatted down to look Harry in the eye. "You know, Harry, that may be the wisest thing I've ever heard anyone say. A lot of adults never learn that, about wanting and when it's enough, try not to forget it ok? But also son, I don't think it's bad to want a friend. One friend isn't too much, Harry." His hand once again reached forward and tousled his hair, but this time he paused with Harry's hair caught in his fingers, the scar plainly visible. His thumb gently rubbed the scar while he gazed thoughtfully into the child's eyes. "You're a good man," his hand slid down to clasp the small shoulder and he added softly "my little philosopher… off you go now. We don't want one of your neighbors to find you on the platform here with a stranger. Thanks for sharing your lunch Harry; it was very thoughtful of you." He smiled and again turned the boy to the stairs. "Take care of yourself."

"All right. Goodbye then." He took a few slow steps and turned back. "If I go back to London, will you be at the station people watching?"

"Depends on when you go, but I might be. Tell you what. If you come back with a good plan, all the pieces in place and you know where you're going; I'll come along to watch your back on the Underground. I don't need to come in with you. Wherever you go, I can just wait for you at the underground or in a nearby shop if you want. That's if I'm around when you come back. Deal?"

Harry grinned, suddenly not as sad anymore. "Deal!" He strode back and stuck his hand out. The two shook, shared a pleased smile, and Harry turned and ran down the stairs.

Bran walked to the other side of the platform where he could see the area in front of the station. He smiled wistfully as he watched Harry barrel out of the entrance and run down the street, satchel bouncing against his back. His gaze turned as serious as his thoughts. _'I don't like this place. He shouldn't be living here, this isn't supposed to be his life; I don't like it at all. But, I've got to admit that some… small positive has come out of it, if he's learned things like that. He is definitely NOT typical.'_ He shook his head as his expression shifted. _'Merlin and Mordred… what he could grow up to become, if they all just let him be. You can almost see bits of the man peeking out; I never knew you could see that in children. Gods, he's going to be brilliant… _Bran sat back on the bench and leaned his head against a sign as an amused smile danced across his face. _'cheeky little bastard's off to find The Leaky & Gringotts; Goblins will be turning cartwheels! Now if we can only keep Dumbledore from finding out….'_ He pulled a mobile phone out of his pocket and pushed a speed dial number. "Yea, it's me. He's back in the cradle safe & sound, we can pull everyone back. I'm just waiting for the return train; I'll be by to report in around two hours."

EOC

Revised Feb 23, 2008

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A/N: Sooo... what do you think? I tried to scare the gryffindor out of him w/o making him too scared to ever go back to London. and Bran... well, he crawed out of somewhere and took over. I've discovered in later chapters that he's got a bad habit of doing this VBG I've love to know what part of my subconscious controls him!

btw - the identity of Bran's group is going to be a secret for a bit, I won't even tell if they exist in canon big evil grin

Next Chapter 8 - I Don't wanna go to London


	8. Chpt 8: I Don't Wanna go to London

**DISCLAIMER**: JKR ownes all Harry Potter characters and canon storyline. If you recognize it, its not mine.

**A / N:** The title is a laugh for myself. A line from a song I cant fully remember, but last chapters title kept pushing into my brain... I couldn't resist using it as a chapter title. It seemed to fit Harry's thoughts at this point quite well, at least his subconscious!

It may seem like I'm taking a detour - but I'm not. Please bear with me while I finish building the environment for Harry that I'm going to need later. I've been sketching out future scenes and they just don't work well without more depth at this point. Some will say I could have done it in a couple of paragraphs, but to me that would be like reading a summary of a scene vs the scene itself. Done too often, and your suddenly reading something that feels like Cliff Notes, not a real story. Yea, you get the plot, but you don't get the feel. You aren't with the character even though you know what happened to them and I don't think that style should be done with things that are important. Minor stuff, yes, but not things that matter to the arc.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and flagged this fic as a favorite or an alert. I'm honored that some of you like it enough to want to follow along. :-)

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**Chapter 8 - I Don't Wanna Go To London**

Feeling as though he'd had more than enough of London to last for a while, Harry decided to spend the next week or so looking into growing vegetables. Well, starting on the second day at least. First, he went straight home from the train station, right into his cupboard and lay on his bed. The next half hour was spent just looking at his familiar surroundings, hugging himself, and promising that he would never be that impulsive again. He would always try to plan ahead and think like Bran told him. No more foolish rushing around; especially if an idea was the least bit scary or _daunting_. He vowed to make sure all ideas were carefully thought out and planned before he acted. At that moment, his Gryffindor side retreated farther back and sat down grumbling, while his Slytherin self stepped up further and applauded. An adult Harry would tell a group of friends how that day scared the Gryffindor right out of him.

After long chat with Sybil in the sunny back garden, Harry was himself again and ready to help with dinner. Come morning, he was off to the Library, vegetables on his mind. He had something to do for his Aunt and more motivation than ever to do it. The world was a larger, scarier place than he had ever imagined and he had a new appreciation for his simple life in Little Whinging, imperfect as it was. He soon found that Bran was right again, once he told the Librarian what he wanted; she knew exactly what books he should use. She helped him come up with the basic steps he needed to think on and told him about how some books had a lot of good information and he should take those home to read slowly. Others just had bits that he needed and he should write the bits down on paper like he did at school and not bother taking them home or reading everything. Soon he was established at a table, surrounded by piles of books, a stack of paper she gave him and doing what she told him was 'taking notes' out of the ones she'd marked. Evidently, she was a gardener herself and was more than happy to encourage Harry's interest in her favorite pastime. She prevented him from getting bogged down in the more difficult areas and kept his focus on the things he could understand and participate in creating.

Many days passed in a similar fashion. If some of the notes on his paper were about the things Bran had told him, nobody noticed. Just like at the end of the week, nobody paid any mind when Harry plucked out a London Guidebook to read at his table. The adults had long become used to the boy researching about planting a vegetable garden, and if a few guidebooks found their way into his checkout pile, the clerk thought he was getting them just to look at the pictures. He wouldn't have been the first child to do so.

* * *

Meanwhile, a group of people were all aflutter at the news that Harry Potter seemed to have found out about the Wizarding World and was off trying to verify that fact by a visit to The Leaky Cauldron. Not to mention the fuss when all finally agreed that Bran's interpretation was correct. He was heading for Gringotts and was looking for something specific.

The very fact that the boy would find this, by himself, three years ahead of schedule, made all the previous plans obsolete. New plans would have to be made. People set off traveling and visiting, having intense discussions in odd, out of the way locations where they were certain nobody would be listening. Old arguments were rehashed and new ones aired, but in the end, all agreed their options were limited. The boy was the key. The potential opportunity was simply too great to be missed, this changed everything. It was the break many had hoped for, but nobody thought would actually occur. A plan was formulated and contacts made. They were finally ready.

And everyone waited with bated breath for the child to make the next move.

* * *

All the loose paper in Harry's satchel was becoming hard to keep track of and in any sort of order. He knew the best thing would be to get a binder or notebook, but was again worried about asking his Aunt. He thought about it carefully for a couple of days and decided that a notebook wouldn't be greedy. His Aunt bought him several when school started last year, although he hadn't used them much yet in class, they had been very useful for his cupboard studying. It was also time to bring up the idea of the new garden and show her what he had found out. Maybe once she knew what he would use it for, she wouldn't mind, and maybe he could get an extra for later, and use that for London notes.

That Sunday, Harry gathered all his notes up, organized them, and left the stack on his bed before going to help with the laundry. At lunchtime, he brought them to the outdoor table where Aunt Petunia was setting up for them. He stood there, shifting on his feet.

"Aunt Petunia, can I talk to you about something?"

Oh, how she was beginning to both dread and look forward to that phrase. It was likely to be something that would confuse her, but would also be interesting. The boy was rarely boring; she had to give him that.

"Yes, sit down first; you shouldn't bounce around like that when speaking to adults about serious matters. What's that in your hands?"

"It's what I wanted to talk about." He laid the pages on the table and took his place. "I thought it would be nice if we had a vegetable garden and I wanted to offer to do all the work to make one for you. I know how much you like fresh veg and I remembered you talking about how your dad had one when you were a girl and how much you liked it. I did tons of reading at the library and checked out books and everything. It doesn't need to be very big; it can be any size you want. It's too late for much this year, but the books all say that we can break the ground up now and plant some fall and winter stuff, and maybe even some salad greens cuz it'll stay warm for a while. Then next year we can put lots of stuff in, all the stuff you like. Peas, beans, brussel sprouts, tomatoes, even basil! I'll take care of it for you and do all the weeding and stuff. You can tell me what you want and I'll look it up in the library books and learn how to plant it. If…if you'd like?"

He looked at her hopefully and pushed over his papers.

This child would be the death of her. A vegetable garden? Where does he get these ideas… as she picked up the pages, a voice inside purred over the thought of her own fresh vegetables right out her door. She began to scan his notes and rough childish attempts at sketches. The voice dreamed on about fresh herbs, no more worrying about the packets going bad in the fridge, and herbs had gotten so expensive lately. He'd gone to a lot of work already; she couldn't help but notice. Even making note of what they could plant this late, if they found seedlings or got them going right away. The voice whispered how the landscaping men would make short work of the hard part. She made a surprised noise as she saw a mention of cold-frames to extend the growing season with a question mark and a note to look up cold-frames. She remembered her father doing that. They would put out the frame together and he'd rub his hands with glee, calculating how much longer they could make the plants last. They'd had 5 different types of lettuce alone and some of them lasted well into autumn. His tomatoes; he'd grown the best. Nothing in the store had ever compared.

Why hadn't she ever tried to put one in here? She looked around the back. They certainly had enough space for one and enough light. Dudley rarely used the yard area. The soil was decent; the flowers always did well. With the boy to help her keep up with things, it was certainly doable. It would be a good activity for the boy as well, possibly even Dudley. She'd grown up with a vegetable plot; had spent long summer hours out there with her dad. _'I've missed it.'_ She thought. _'I've missed him.'_ She blinked quickly, shuffled the pages, and tried to think of the downsides and didn't find any. Well…why not? It would be pleasant next year, to watch the peas and beans climb the strings, smell the herbs whenever a breeze came through. She spent a few moments remembering the pleasures involved in picking a salad, leaf by leaf, or popping sun warm cherry tomatoes into her mouth. The sound of a throat clearing brought her back to the present. She blinked and was almost startled to see the same bland yard and flower beds; her mind had already filled a portion with a smaller version of her dad's garden.

She looked over at the boy. "You've spent a great deal of time on this, I can see. Vegetable gardens take a lot of work, are you sure you want to do this?"

He nodded emphatically, eyes bright. Well, if he was willing… "All right; let's do it. I'll talk to Vernon tonight and tell him I would like to put in a vegetable garden and that you will help me. Breaking the ground will be too much work for you and it would take too long. I'll have the landscaping men take care of that. They'll have machines they can use to do it lickity split."

Petunia and Harry now had a new project. They discussed over lunch and laundry all the small details. Aunt Petunia was going to call and ask the nursery where she bought her flowers if they knew anyone who had seedlings of items they could plant now. She thought she'd seen herb plants there, and they may buy a few to get started. Some of them were hard to start from seed, she said, and many didn't die in the winter, just went dormant.

Harry even managed to ask if she could buy him a notebook or two for his garden notes. She told him he should have a binder instead, so he could add pages of notes much easier. You couldn't change the order of pages in a notebook. Harry just nodded; he'd thought a binder too much to ask for, they cost more.

* * *

Vernon had a surprising conversation with his wife that night.

"A garden Pet? But we already have a garden in the back…" A confused Vernon dropped his paper into his lap.

"Not a vegetable garden. I'd like a vegetable garden. You remember the one my father had at our home when we were courting? We had such lovely fresh vegetables all spring, summer and far into the fall. It's much more economical nowadays, what with the increases in prices, especially for fresh herbs. I would love to have my own herbs, Vernon. I shudder to think of the waste whenever I buy one of those fresh packets in the market. They never last and I end up throwing out brown rotted bits half the time. It wouldn't be any work for you, dear. I worked with my father every year in our garden, there isn't much I don't know, and I've got the boy to help me with weeding and harvesting."

His facial expression didn't change, hmmm, she was going to have to nudge his prickly spots. She'd thought the economy combined with her simply wanting it would be enough. Hmpf! Why he always had to prove difficult over the simple things, she'd never know.

She looked over at him meaningfully. "It's a nice quiet activity for a child, Vernon; gives them something constructive to do out of the way. It grounds them in the normal natural rhythms of the world. Its not heavy work at all, so nobody would fuss. I used to do it myself as a child, so I know what's involved. I think it would be good for him. I could have the landscape men break the ground for me then put in a few things for now and work on the soil so everything would be ready to plant next spring. This is the perfect time of year to get started. It would make me very happy Vernon."

He sputtered a bit "Well, I don't know, Pet. Are you sure it would look alright? Growing our own vegetables, in this neighborhood?"

Indignant, Petunia drew herself up and gave him 'The Look'. "Of course it is, Vernon. Do you think I would suggest something that wasn't? There are several families in this area that already have vegetable or herb gardens. I think you would be surprised at how common it's become in suburban neighborhoods. Most people like to have their favorite herbs and veg available and salad gardens are all the rage in many of the women's magazines. Everyone's talking about organics and avoiding pesticides on vegetables you eat raw, like lettuces and spinach."

It looked like the Achilles Heel point was necessary...

"Think of the educational opportunity for Dudley. When his class is studying the life cycle of plants, he'll have examples right outside his door. Our son will have all kinds of different vegetating plants to learn from when the other children only have flowers. By seeing them every day, he'll become familiar with them without even knowing he's learning! It will give him a leg up on the botany sections when he's older. I know it certainly helped me."

Vernon looked pensive and uncertain, but he finally nodded his head. He wasn't crazy about the idea, but as long as he wasn't expected to do anything out there and it made Petunia happy, he wouldn't stand in her way if she was set.

"Thank you Vernon. You'll see; it will all turn out wonderfully. This makes me very happy dear. I'll start making plans tomorrow. The service is due out soon; hopefully they'll be able to clear my space then."

Petunia smiled happily and returned to the kitchen. Vernon raised his paper and hoped he hadn't agreed to something that would make the other men look oddly at him again.

That night, Petunia lay awake a long time; thinking about a boy, a garden, and the question of why. The answers she came up with made her both pleased and bothered. She discarded the bothered choice and went with pleased, then firmly decided to never ask him specifically why he wanted the garden. Some things were simply better left unsaid; otherwise, people may get ideas.

The next morning Petunia was delighted to discover that the landscapers would clear and till the ground for only a small extra surcharge. Once Dudley was at Piers home for the day, she and Harry set off on their errands. First stop was to buy stationary supplies. She instructed him to select a plastic coated three ring binder; that way he could take it out into the garden and it would clean off easily when it became dirty. She laughed and said it wasn't an 'if' when dealing in vegetable gardening, but a 'when' and then told a funny story about her father's garden book and the compost pile. Harry did as she said; he very much did NOT want those types of stains on his garden book!

In a move that surprised both, Petunia decided to pick out a binder for her own use as well as several packages of dividers she said they would share so they could organize their books. While choosing different types of paper; she told him all about her father's garden book and how it was something a good gardener should always keep. Her dad recorded the dates of spring frosts and fall freezes; full names of the seeds & plants grown each season along with the supplier of each. Then he would record how well each plant did and it's yield, taste and hardiness. He made sketches of the garden layout and planned modifications each year to try and get each plant in the best spot. He also made notes about where the damp spots in the garden were located and what area's tended to go dry first and what he added to the soil. Basically, everything about what happened in the garden that year went into the book. Then, in the winter, Petunia and her Dad would go over the book and make plans for the next year.

Harry was fascinated. He loved it when his Aunt talked about his grandfather. It would be fun to try and keep a garden book just like he did and it would give him something fun to do in the winter in his cupboard. After all those hours in the Library, he was becoming very fond of the subject and feeling somewhat possessive of the planned garden. He was always happy being outside; and growing things you liked to eat was an idea he loved. _This is much more interesting than flowers, _he kept saying to himself Harry had discovered his first hobby and was quickly becoming an enthusiast.

His excitement was rubbing off on Petunia. She found herself in such good spirits that she picked out three extra notebooks of varying sizes for Harry's use. His obvious happiness at such a simple act made her glad she'd done so.

"These are for your own use, I have only one request. I want you to use one of these notebooks to work on your penmanship. I noticed when reading your notes that your handwriting could use some improvement. It's something you can work on occasionally the rest of the summer, but mostly when the weather changes." She stared up at the display of pens and pencils above the notebooks. "We should also probably start getting you used to ink instead of pencils." Her voice was thoughtful and after a brief pause, she continued with more certainty. "Yes, I'll get you a couple of pens to practice using. You can erase with pencils, but not with ink, and you should get used to that."

"Why?"

"It's… well…" She paused for a moment "that's what adults use and you'll be using it later in your schooling. Its better, it lasts longer. Pencil tends to fade. You may want to rewrite some of your notes in ink as practice. I'll get some that won't run if it gets wet."

Harry was confused, but he nodded anyway. He didn't think any kids in his school used ink at all, but if she said he needed to get used to it, he'd go along. It might be fun, he liked the colors. He noticed the package she picked up and was examining.

"What's that?" He'd never seen a pen like that before.

"It's called a fountain pen. They're closer to the old fashioned ways of writing, when people used feather quills. The ink flows down into this nub and then onto the paper. Those other pens have a ball at the tip to sort of roll the ink onto the paper and to control the flow. These don't."

"Is it hard to use without the ball? It looks odd."

"Yes, they are hard to use, they blot and smear something awful if you aren't careful. This would also be a good skill to have." She looked at him, considering. "Maybe next year," she mused quietly, "that'll be soon enough." She put the odd pen back on the rack and picked up a few of the more normal kind and they went to checkout.

Back in the car, Petunia took one look at the boy's excited face while he filled his binder and decided to indulge both of them in a trip to the nursery after their next stop. They could look for herb plants and ask about the possibility of locally finding seedlings or young plants for the new garden. She was planning to call them today anyway; a visit wasn't that much different.

Hours later, a happy, but tired pair returned to number 4. It took several trips, but they finally got everything unloaded to the back. They flopped down onto chairs and stared at the flats of plants and other paraphernalia, then looked at each other and suddenly began laughing. Petunia managed to sputter out "It really was just supposed to be a quick look-see trip! I can't believe they had so much…"

Not only did they find perennial herb plants, reasonably priced, but also salad greens such as lettuces & spinach, and several other plants more than ready for transplanting. It seemed the owner had several customers who did a great deal of succession planting but lacked either the space or the inclination to raise their own seedlings. He had begun offering this service over the last few years and was quite happy to find a new customer. Especially since an order had been cancelled a few weeks prior, leaving him with dozens of items badly needing transplanting. He gratefully sold them the entire set at a huge discount and pressed a plant list on them for next year. He told them he would grow additional reserved seedlings upon request in his greenhouse so they could get a head start in the spring. They even brought home two mature cherry tomato plants in large pots that Petunia simply couldn't resist. Those had already been given pride of place on the patio, the rest of the plants were scattered on the grass. Petunia couldn't help the thrill at seeing such a decent beginning to her new garden. If everything survived transplanting, they should be harvesting salad greens in a week.

They roused themselves and began the process of arranging all the plants into locations to keep them alive until the ground was cleared and tilled for planting. Some of the tender plants needed to be kept out of the full midday sun as they could burn. Aunt Petunia described for Harry how they would sometimes need to put a mesh cloth up high on poles to provide bright shade for them, causing him to stare longingly over at the bag with his garden book; he wanted to write down what she was saying. Petunia laughed at the look on his face and promised to tell him all this again later. He'd have plenty of time to write it down, especially if they had to put up the shade screen like her father did on the hottest days. She reminded him she'd warned that vegetable gardens were a lot of work, but she smiled as she spoke. She hadn't felt like this in a long time.

They worked companionably together and soon had it all arranged to Petunia's satisfaction just in time for a late lunch. They decided to spend the afternoon planning. Petunia would make a list of what she wanted to grow, and Harry would look up how much space each plant needed and any special requirements; then they would mock up a layout on the grid paper Aunt Petunia bought and by the end of the day they'd be ready to stake out their new garden.

Lunch dishes cleared, they settled in, drinking lemonade as a treat, papers and library books covering the table. Once she had a preliminary listing, Petunia went to the kitchen to bring back refills of their drinks and found herself standing just inside the doorway, watching her nephew work. He was swinging his feet, reading intently back and forth between two books and making notes on his paper; humming to himself.

Before she had a chance to block it, the thought was there in her mind, fully crystallized and loud. This time, she knew exactly whom he resembled. As much as it didn't make sense, there it was. It had come through before in his behavior and some of his attitudes, likes and dislikes, but those were easy to dismiss individually. But, right now, today, she couldn't dismiss something she couldn't specifically identify. _How can he resemble him so much in this moment when he is nothing like him physically? He's dark where Dad was blond; slight and small where Dad was tall and broad shouldered. Yet, somehow, right now the resemblance to his grandfather is so strong it's as if Dad were sitting there himself, planning next seasons planting. Could it be something in the expression? Maybe the posture, set of the shoulders? He has Lily and Dad's green eyes; maybe it's just that…He can't share posture and expressions with a man he never saw past early infancy!_

_This is going to drive me nuts until I place it… it's just suddenly THERE and I can't stop seeing it._

She brought out the pitcher, refilled their glasses and returned to the kitchen to stare out the window. Although she searched diligently all that day and the ones that followed -- since she was now unable to shutout the resemblance -- Petunia would end the year no closer to her answer. She also refused to let her mind take the next step. Lily was like their mother, a Harris, while, to this day, her father is the parent Petunia resembles -- inside and out.

The next morning she and Harry measured and, using stakes and twine, marked out the boundaries of their garden. The landscaping men were due today. Before they arrived, Harry managed a quick warning to Sybil. He told her the tilling should shake the ground and vibrate and it may be very uncomfortable. Mention was even made of Harry's new favorite word, daunting. Sybil hoped he tired of it soon, she knew she had.

The clearing and tilling went well. The firm even brought over soil additives to mix in while tilling. Harry was completely enthralled with the process, especially the tools and machines they used. He'd never seen anything like it before and was furiously writing in his garden book between awed stares. The kids at the playground weren't going to believe how the grass came up in long strips like that. It was like the man just scooped it up and the strips of sod came out the back. And the tiller! Well, his little 8 yr old male heart was a pitter patter. An engine, loud noise, billowing smoke and huge metal spokes that churned up the ground. What wasn't there for a little boy to love?

Petunia watched the process from the house; much quieter and less dusty. She couldn't believe how eager she was for the next part. Before the men were even packing up, she was already on the patio with her twine, stakes, measuring tape, rakes and shovels -- garden plan tucked neatly in her apron pocket. The rest of the afternoon was spent laying out the bones of her new garden, marking the shaped sections, paths and straight rows with twine & stakes and moving the dirt about until she deemed it just right.

Unable to help herself, she planted a few of the ones most needing out of their pots and two of her favorite herbs before heading in to put the final touches on the dinner she'd put in the oven while the men were working. Harry watered everything, especially those that were newly in the ground. They both kept thinking: _Tomorrow's going to be wonderful…_

oooOoooOoooOooo

A couple of nights later, Harry lay in bed, drowsily thinking of the new garden. He liked everything, but found he liked the herbs more than he had expected. One of his new favorite things was to run his hands over the lavender, rosemary or thyme, just like Aunt Petunia showed him, and then enjoy how the scent clung on for ages. He rolled over onto his side and his hand slipped into the small gap between mattress and wall. It hit something. Curious, he felt around, pulled it out and realized it was his mum's diary. How had he forgotten about it? He'd been so busy thinking about the garden and finding out about London; that he'd forgotten to finish reading. The book was slipped underneath his pillow for tomorrow. He'd read then, he promised, and he wouldn't let himself get bored with the way mum went on and on about that book 'Hogwarts: A History'.

Harry woke to two short raps on his door and Petunia's voice calling out:

"Harry! Time to get up; we've a busy day ahead. Dress in your nice things because you're going with me while I run some errands."

Face turned into the pillow to muffle his groan, Harry thought about all the things he'd rather do today instead of following his Aunt around on errands. They couldn't be going back to the nursery, not if he was supposed to wear nice things. Once in the car, Harry learned it wasn't really errands at all. Aunt Petunia had called it 'errands' just so Dudley wouldn't fuss. They were going school clothes shopping for Harry and he didn't mind putting off diary reading for this, not one bit. He told himself it had nothing to do with how boring it was to read about someone else reading.

True to her word of last spring; Aunt Petunia bought several nice things just for school plus more for the playground and weekends during the coming cooler weather, as well as shoes, socks and unders. It took most of the day, but Harry was all smiles as he put his new clothes away before helping with dinner. That evening, he sat on his bed and happily stared at his new shelf unit; especially the two shelves containing his good clothes. Yes, he had so many now he had to use two shelves instead of just one. He'd put playground clothes on one and the nicer school only stuff on the next. It hadn't happened yet, but he was greatly anticipating growing out of his own clothes. Just the thought gave him a happy shiver.

He turned and reached under his pillow. Diary time, finally! He scrunched down on top of his bed, pillow at his back, and immersed himself in his mother's world once again. He read a few more pages of 'book talk' and then his mum was writing about packing for school in her new magical trunk and wondering what the train to school would be like and how she was to catch it at Platform 9 ¾ from Kings Cross Station in London. Harry sat upright. Train? Platform and Kings Cross? As he read on, he felt like kicking himself. If he'd only read more of the diary before rushing off to London, he would have been much more prepared. It was all there; the bustle and sounds of London and the immense station (not his, but very similar); signs leading through tunnels to the platforms as well as the description of what a platform WAS and how to get onto the magical one. Harry sat for a few moments, calling himself all kinds of names in his head and fuming. He finally took a deep breath, reminded himself that he wasn't ever going to rush off without taking time again. The decision was easy to make; no going back to London until he finished the diary. It would be just his luck that he would need to know something written in the last few pages. Bran was so right about thinking things through; Harry should have thought about the diary telling stuff he needed to know.

Harry's days and nights took on a pattern. During the day he worked in the garden with his Aunt; played in the playground with the other children; climbed trees, read books, threw rocks in a nearby stream, held twig and bark chip races in said stream and researched London at the library. He was having so much fun learning about what was in the city that sometimes he forgot to concentrate on how people moved around. The evenings, well, then he was transported to Hogwarts with his mum. He followed along on everything because Lily wrote about absolutely everything; magic classes, learning to fly, watching Quidditch and dealing with those irritating boys: James Potter and Sirius Black. Harry had to be careful he didn't laugh out loud the first time he read his Mum grumbling about her future husband. Above all, she hated their joke on the name Sirius and serious, the word, whenever she tried to use it on them. Being a young boy himself, Harry thought the joke perfect; especially when his mum was being bossy. Indeed, since Lily never censored her writing, her bossy moments came through perfectly clear to her son and he had no trouble whatsoever cheering for his Dad at those times.

Lily's first year was moving along at a reasonable pace. A relief after how long it took to read only that first day and night. She'd included so many details that Harry had wondered if he'd still be reading it when he was 11 and on the Hogwarts Express himself! He couldn't understand how that fun loving girl had turned so long winded and serious. She never seemed to laugh anymore. The shock of learning she was a witch and that magic was real must have fried her brain for a while. She had to have gotten over it eventually, though; she DID marry James Potter, the boy she spent paragraphs complaining about how he didn't take Hogwarts or magic seriously enough.

He just hoped she got over it soon. As much as he enjoyed laughing over her gripes about his dad, he wanted the old Lily back -- the girl who dressed her dog up for an Alice tea party. The mum he'd come to love.

EOC

Revised Dt Feb 24, 2008

Next: Chapter 9: Summers End.

**A/N**: if you ever have an excuse to rent one of the big tillers, I can only say: do it. I have a vivid memory of a 45 yr old staid, conservative businessman, husband of a friend, bouncing behind the tiller, laughing and hollering at his imaginary plow team. If it drove him to such excesses, I can only imagine what it would do to a real 8 yr old! VBG ( and yes, I was jealous - he hogged the machine! ) Warning: Excessive tilling ( no, not playing, not us ) tends to turn a patch of ground into a shoe sucking bog if it rains the next day... keep small dogs on a leash and stock up on doggy shampoo...


	9. Chpt 9: Summers End

**DISCLAIMER**: JKR ownes all Harry Potter characters and canon storyline. If you recognize it, its not mine.

* * *

**Chapter 9 - Summers End**

Now that he knew he wasn't going to London for a while, Harry stopped worrying about the remaining snags in his plan. He had time to find maps, money, and something that looked like a wizards robe. Even though he was more than half way through the diary, he was still only in her first year. It looked like she wrote a lot less detail for the next couple of years, but he still had a lot of reading left. Regardless, he still only read in the evenings in his cupboard. Reading the diary had become disturbingly uncomfortable. Harry had begun to fear his father was a bully. The tone of Lily's complaints changed during the second term of their first year and Harry wasn't laughing at their bickering anymore. He didn't like the picture developing during that term. Earlier in the year, his dad had begun to single out for pranking a boy his mum befriended in her Potions class. The nature of the pranks was changing and Harry didn't find what his dad's gang did to Severus funny at all. Each prank was a little bit meaner than the last one and Harry didn't like it. He especially didn't like it when he read how Severus didn't have any other friends and was always alone. Harry couldn't help but think about himself; how similar they sounded. Harry didn't have any friends either and Dudley's gang picked on him because he was different and they could get away with it; just like his Dad, Sirius, Remus and Peter picked on Severus because he was different and alone, and nobody seemed to stop them. His dad seemed to be trying to stop Severus from having a friend, just like Dudley had always stopped Harry from having friends.

Harry tried to tell himself that his Dad was jealous; but even at 8 he could tell from the diary that Lily and Severus were just friends and weren't ever going to be anything different. Their friendship seemed to be mostly based on their both loving potions class and studying together, Harry couldn't see any harm in it. A voice in his head told him that if he knew that, then a twelve year old James Potter should have been able to see it as well. The little voice also said that jealousy wouldn't be a good excuse anyway. People are allowed to have friends, Lily's choices weren't up to James and he had no right to interfere. Harry tried not to listen to himself, but he was forced to agree with the voice.

No one could have imagined the future impact due to Harry not personally identifying with the young spoiled wealthy Gryffindor, James Potter, but rather with his victim, the young lonely Slytherin, Severus Snape. Try as he might; the more he read, the less kinship he felt with his father. Their personalities, and their lives, were simply too different.

Often he ended up reading faster; just wanting the Hogwarts year to be over so he could read about his Mum's summer and not think about his Dad being a bully like Dudley. Then he would remember that once the diary was finished, he was going to London, and he'd slow down again. He no longer had any desire to hurry to London; that was long buried under the lingering fear of that first trip. London would still be there, and so would Gringotts, if it existed. He thought it might even be better to go after summer was over when there would be less people running around.

That was Harry's thinking; the rest of the world seemed to have a different plan. The last weeks of summer saw his snags slowly disappearing one by one. One was fixed completely by accident while he was checking out books at the library.

"Do the London Tourist packs you have include the Underground maps?"

Harry whipped his head around to see a man at the counter next to him talking to another clerk. Maps? Tourist Packs here?

"Yes, and the London street map we include also shows the Underground stops to link them together. Would you like me to get you one?"

"Yes please."

Harry spoke up quickly. "Could you get me one as well, please ma'am?"

They both turned to look at him, the man with a smile, the clerk with a frown.

"They aren't for playing, that's why we keep them back here away from the children."

"I don't want to play with it; I want to look at it. I want to know how things work when my Aunt takes me into the city. They're free aren't they?" He held up a book in his stack, "I read in the guidebooks how you can get them free from the TI office in the train stations. It didn't say anything about having to be older to look at them."

"Ah, let him have one. There's no harm, right? They are free and it's good to have children interested in our capital city. He even has a guidebook; he's obviously taking his trip to the city seriously." The clerk now frowned at the man. He sighed. "Look, if you don't want to give him one, just give me two then, alright?"

The clerk nodded, told the man it was on his head then and returned with two packets. The man grinned conspiratorially and plopped one inside Harry's satchel, which was dangling open from his shoulder ready for his books. "There." He said with a broad smile. "Now you can imagine and plan to your hearts content." His hand rested for a moment on Harry's head and then he was gone, out the doors.

The clerk was still frowning at Harry. "I don't want to see you looking at that inside the library, you hear? We're not supposed to give them to children your age."

Harry nodded and promised to never open it in the library, took his books and headed home to his cupboard. He couldn't wait to see what was inside. The guidebook said they would mail maps and other information to your home, but he'd been too afraid of getting caught by Uncle Vernon seeing the package. The library hadn't had London or Underground maps on any of their displays, not like the local bus schedules and maps, but he never thought of asking if it was in the back. Now the only thing he really needed was money and robes. He thought a Halloween costume would be ok for robes, but the Dursley's didn't have anything that would work and there weren't any in the stores yet. He couldn't wait to find Charing Cross Road tonight and see if the Underground stop he picked from the guidebook was the right one.

* * *

It was the end of August, with September, and school, right around the corner. Petunia sat outside with lemonade, checking her lists and enjoying the new garden. A thick line was slowly drawn through School Supplies. Bags for each boy were on their beds. School clothes were almost done. Just shoes for Dudley and she could cross that one off. He had slimmed down some this summer, but there was still a ways to go. She wished he'd gotten interested in the garden, but every time she brought him out there, it had been a failure. He would whine about being bored, hated the stories about his grandfather and found nothing to like in the smell of the herbs, unless it reminded him of dinner. Her lips tightened. The child really was a Dursley through and through. As the years passed, she despaired of finding anything Evans in him. She truly was the last of her family. The boy couldn't be considered. He was magical, a _wizard_; her mind spat the word. That freaky world would strip all the Evans right out of him. By the time he was twelve, the resemblance that so bothered her lately would be completely gone. He'd come back from his first year a stranger, she was sure of it. Contact with that world changed people; there was no way around it. She was glad he and Dudley weren't close. At least the boy's coming changes and disappearance from their lives wouldn't affect her son. The doorbell rang and Petunia left these thoughts behind.

A few minutes later, she was back on the patio with her friend Elizabeth. A pitcher of fresh lemonade was placed on the table between them, along with a plate of shortbread.

"It's so nice back here Petunia. You're flowers are looking lovely and the new garden seems to really have taken off. I can smell your lavender from here. I've never seen anyone use lavender and herb plants to create an entry area for vegetables. It's striking and softens the boundary between yard and vegetables very nicely."

"Thank you, my father always did that and I simply copied his design. The lavender attracts the bees for better pollination. I hadn't expected the plants to do much; we had such a late start. But, the weather has cooperated and everything is thriving, we didn't loose any of the late transplants, although their yield is low. The herbs have done so well that I'm starting to harvest them for drying. Not too much this year, mostly the trimmings from shaping, but I've noticed a great difference in quality from store bought." She looked at the plants fondly, "I wish I'd done this years ago."

"Do you take care of it by yourself? Isn't that a lot of work?"

"It's not really that much work. My father always had a vegetable and herb garden, so I've grown up doing this sort of thing. I've tried to include both boys, but Dudley didn't take to the garden. Vernon says it's not a hobby for everyone."

"And Harry?"

"He still helps me; he seems to have taken a liking to the plants and the process. I believe he's even checked out some library books on the subject."

"Really? I didn't know they had books like that for children." Elizabeth paused in thought for a moment.

Petunia tried to hide a smug smile behind her glass, as she thought of how Harry wasn't restricted to only children's books. Her nephew was perfectly capable of reading a gardening book for beginner level adult hobbyists. Slowly, yes, but he could get through it. She was so busy mentally comparing her Harry's reading level to Elizabeth's teenagers, that she almost missed Elizabeth's next words.

"Speaking of Harry, my cousin's child just got glasses for the first time. The doctor gave her some general guidelines on what to expect in the future, but he didn't give much detail. He was one of those off-putting types and she didn't feel comfortable asking questions that may sound odd. I thought I'd ask you about your experience with Harry and then pass it along. You don't mind do you? They don't know anyone with a young child in glasses."

Petunia was a bit surprised, but couldn't see any harm in the questions. She would likely be the same way if it were her Dudley. She shook her head to indicate she didn't mind and Elizabeth pulled out a piece of paper. Petunias eyebrows rose and the questions started flowing, one right after another.

"Here goes then! How often do you have his eyes checked and how often has his prescription changed? Do they grow out of glasses as fast as they do clothes? You know, with them getting tight around the head?" Elizabeth looked up and laughed. "I thought that was an odd question, you know, but I never thought before about heads growing. They must of course, but it's not something you think about."

She returned her attention to her list. "When they have growth spurts, do their eyes change and is that usually a permanent change in their prescription or can it be temporary? Like when a child grows and is clumsy and gawky for a bit as they learn to coordinate everything again. Do they have to learn how to coordinate their eyes? When they play, do the glasses fall off all the time and are they really as sturdy as the shop claims?"

She put the list down on the table and took a sip of lemonade. "I know some of the questions are silly, but she's just worried you know? Don't feel like you have to answer everything, just some of your experience would be helpful, especially how often his prescription changes and if she should expect it to change when he grows. I recall Harry had a growth spurt this last spring. Did his eyesight change then?"

Petunia was sitting back in her chair, feeling uneasy. She had no idea about most of what was being asked. She thought the questions would be on daily life with glasses or similar issues. It'd been ages since Harry's visit to the eye doctor. There'd been no indication that his vision needed correcting or that his glasses weren't working right. A couple questions may have been silly, but she couldn't deny the bit of logic to them simply because she'd never thought of it that way. There was common sense to the assumption that the eyes could change along with the rest of the body. Should his prescription have changed over the years?

"Petunia?"

"Well, this is going to sound odd, but I've really no idea. It's been a few years since his eye exam. The doctor didn't say anything about bringing him back in. I never thought about it changing. I just thought that this was the way they were corrected and now it was done. He's given no indication that his glasses aren't working as they should, not like when he was little and running into things."

"So he's not been back in and you don't know if it's changed?"

"No. Should it? Should he have gone back and how often? I guess I should have been like your cousin and found someone to ask silly questions. I thought the Doctor would have told us to come back if it was needed, but he never said a word, so I assumed it wasn't necessary."

She suddenly looked straight at Elizabeth. "Surely Harry would have said something if he couldn't see right? His schoolwork is fine and he shows every indication that he can see. If I'd ever thought he couldn't see properly I would have dealt with it immediately, but there've been no signs of trouble."

Elizabeth looked in Petunia's eyes and knew she wasn't play-acting. She was honestly worried and confused with no idea of what she should have been doing. She felt a spurt of compassion and reached over to grasp one of Petunia's hands pressed on the table.

"I'm sure he would tell you, but maybe it's been gradual and he's not noticed as much. That's what the doctor told my cousin, that she can't rely on her son telling her when he can't see right. If the change were to occur overnight, then a child would be able to tell, but it happens so gradually that they don't realize and they forget how well they're supposed to be seeing. A fuzzy world becomes normal to them."

Petunia's face paled even more, and for the first time in years, she spoke without thinking.

"I've never neglected his health before, Liz, never. I know some people think I have, but I've not. He truly is naturally small. I've always been very careful of his diet and health and -"

Elizabeth broke in, trying to backpedal; she never meant to start something like this. "It's not that bad Petunia. We don't even know if his eyes have changed. You just need to get him in and have them checked as soon as you can. Chances are, nothings wrong, and if it is, it could still only be recent."

"From his growth spurt?"

"Yes, if physical growth has anything to do with it. Remember, that's something neither of us have a clue about. I think most people only have their children's eye's checked before school each year, so you aren't very far behind."

"That's true, and even if its not, there isn't much I can do at this point. I am so angry at that Doctor for letting me walk out of there thinking this was a permanent solution. I've seen commercials about people getting their eye's checked, but I thought that was for adults whose vision was going with age or misuse. I thought it was different if you were born with bad eyesight, that it never changed, it just was."

Petunia let out one last angry puff of air and then, true to her temperament, moved on to the solution. "Well, that's that. Time to fix things; I need to take him in somewhere. Any recommendations? I need a Doctor I can trust to tell me what I need to know."

"There's a local man I've heard good things about. I can write his name down for you. He has offices just on the edge of the business district."

Petunia got up for fresh paper as Harry came running out the back door.

"Aunt Petunia!" He skidded to a halt just in front of her; his face flushed with excitement and began to beg. "Please say yes, please…"

"To what?"

"Mrs. Briggs wants me to weed her flower beds for her, but she said I had to have permission. She said I could do it over the next week, just an hour each day. Please say I can, please!"

"Why on earth would you want to do that?" As soon as the words left her lips, she knew the answer. "She's offered to pay you, is that it?"

Very slowly, almost against his will, he nodded. "It's not too much, just some pocket money. I'm going to save it, I promise not to buy candy, or sweets, or junk food that I'm not allowed to have. I'll be careful with the money, I promise. Please?"

"I think you're much too young to start doing work for money. What if it's too hard for you?"

"Its only weeding and she said I can't work too many hours in a day so it won't be hard. I'm a good weeder!" He bounced on his toes.

"Yes, you are a good weeder."

Elizabeth spoke up; she'd been watching them with some amusement. "As long as it's just weeding, that's not too much Petunia. A little commercial experience would probably be good for him and we all know the Briggs. There's no harm in it."

Petunia looked between the two and then nodded at Harry. He yelped, gave her an exuberant hug and bolted back into the house. The front door slammed a few seconds later.

Petunia sat back down. "Why do I have the suspicion that I'm going to regret agreeing to this? I don't really like the idea of him doing work at the neighbors for money, and I'm not liking the idea of his having money of his own at this age."

"I think it will be good for him Petunia. It will only be a few pounds, not very much really. Every boy needs to learn how to handle money. If he blows it on something stupid or looses it, then it's a good lesson learned, right? He'll be much more careful next time. Best he make his mistakes with small amounts like this when it doesn't matter. Let him keep it and manage it himself."

"I understand your reasoning, and even agree with it, its just… oh, I guess I don't really have a good reason." She couldn't very well tell Elizabeth that she was worried Dudley might try to steal the money and Vernon would end up involved. She would never have agreed if she'd been alone. The whole situation was a disaster waiting to happen once Dudley found out.

"So Petunia; no sweets, candy or junk food? None?"

"Of course not. He barely grows as it is. Any calories that go into that boy need to count. Fruit is sweet enough and has additional benefits. I think most children, my Dudley included, eat entirely too much sugar and junk these days. If Vernon agreed with me, Dudley would be under the same rules."

Elizabeth laughed. "Guess I never thought of it that way. As small as Harry is, it must not take much to ruin his appetite near mealtime."

"Not much at all. I learned long ago to be careful timing his snacks. A single glass of milk half an hour before dinner can be too much on an inactive day." She shook her head as she retrieved her pad & pen to write down the name of the eye doctor. She couldn't help but think that the boy will indeed have to learn to manage money and maybe she should use this as a lesson. When he's older and begins the gradual process of taking over his accounts; she won't have those people saying she was incompetent and unable to teach him proper money management skills. She may be a muggle without much money herself, but that didn't mean she was ignorant of the process.

oooooOooooOooooO

That night, it was Petunia's turn to be shocked. When she told Vernon about the eye appointment she made for Harry and how the previous Doctor failed to tell them he needed regular checkups; his eyes and face took on a familiar glint. He'd known. She could see it plain as day. He admitted as much when she directly confronted him. While she and Harry were out of the room looking at frames, the Doctor had given Vernon several pamphlets and instructions to bring Harry back on a set schedule.

Petunia didn't know what to think. Her intense disappointment in her husband mixed with her anger and embarrassment. Denying appropriate medical care to a child was lower than she'd thought Vernon capable of sinking in his personal war with James Potter. Worse, he took her down with him, made her complicit by default. She wasn't sure if she could ever look at him the same way again. It occurred to Petunia that if he'd covered this up, what else didn't she know about?

"Vernon, you must tell me the truth now. Is there anything else? Especially anything medical, or official, or… just anything. You need to tell me now so we can deal with it before it turns around and bites us like this situation."

"There's nothing else, Petunia, nothing at all. I promise you." He looked away and moved his hands in a vague gesture. "I wouldn't do the same again, Pet, it just happened before and I never knew how to undo things. It's not that serious, you're taking him in soon, so no harm done, right?"

"No harm done? Are you dense Vernon? For all we know the Doctor will tell me we've missed something important and fixing it will be horribly expensive and not covered by National Health, if it can be fixed. Not to mention how I was made out to be a fool in front of Elizabeth, and if you think it will only reflect on me, you aren't thinking at all. I'm sure tonight Elizabeth and Edwin are talking about how foolish we **both** are that we never knew a child needed their eyes checked regularly. **You** are coming off just as foolish and stupid as I am Vernon. Perhaps even more so, as you are the man and out more in the world than I am."

She stared triumphantly at him having delivered her trump card. No one knew how to push Vernon's buttons like Petunia, and she just gave a king hit. Although she knew nothing was further from the truth, she also knew her husband was a fervent advocate of role stereotypes. She loved nothing more than opportunities to turn that silliness in her favor.

Vernon sputtered, but had no response. He sank back down onto his chair and thought how he'd done it to himself again. He was right back where he never wanted to be, his hatred for the boy making him look bad in front of those he wanted to impress. It didn't matter that this was something he did years ago; it was against his plan of remote detachment and now he was paying. He couldn't even blame time and pretend he forgot all about it, he'd remembered. He'd been trying to decide what to do these last months but hadn't acted quickly enough. He wished it were possible to turn back time and stop himself from ever being involved.

"Petunia?"

"Yes? Have you remembered something else we need to fix?"

"No, there really isn't anything else I've hidden. This is something that's been on my mind for a while now. I think it's best if I stay completely out of the boy's life. I think you should handle everything when it comes to him. I'll give advice if you ask, or I may give an opinion quietly to you in private if I think you're missing something, but otherwise, you have free rein. I won't be involved in the slightest. Final decisions will rest completely with you. You should handle all chores, punishments, clothing, school issues, report cards, meetings -- everything. I think you should even be the one to dish up his plate at mealtimes. It's obvious that I have difficulties keeping my feelings for the boy from affecting my decision-making, and when that happens, it only causes trouble for us all. I need to stay away from him, as far away as we can make happen."

Petunia sat down abruptly. She couldn't believe what she just heard; she also couldn't stop her mind from spinning with how this would solve so many problems and allow the timeline on many of her schemes to move forward, mainly getting Harry out of that dratted cupboard. She looked over at Vernon. The complete defeat on his face moved her to comfort him. He'd never been good with humble, this must be a very difficult moment for the man she married. She reminded herself of the main reason he hated Harry so much, he always was extremely protective of her. His loyalty to her was one of his attractions, as well as his complete inability to be anything other than totally, normally average. She sighed. He always was terrible at any kind of revenge beyond a punch. She could at least be understanding when he was tripped up by the very characteristics she originally appreciated.

"Vernon," She reached out to put her hand over his. "I think you are right and that's how we'll handle things. I do appreciate how hard this is for you, but it is likely for the best. I think it will make you happier, and that does matter to me, dear. You've made a decision that shows a great deal of insight into your own character Vernon. It takes a very big man to admit a weakness like this. I am proud of you for that."

He looked up at her, seeming a little lost and eager for her approval. "Are you Pet? I haven't made you despise me?"

"I am disappointed in an action you took and you're covering it up; that's very different from despising you. This whole situation has always been difficult and confusing. You should know Vernon, I don't hate Harry; I don't blame him for anything that happened. He was just a child, and still is. He's as blameless as our Dudley in the things that went on back then."

Vernon's face turned stubborn and mulish and she knew it was of no use trying to make him see that Harry wasn't the one that hurt her. Vernon tended to see things in simplistic terms. Besides his issues with James, Harry would one day be a part of that terrible world, so Vernon would hate him -- for her. Nothing she could say would ever convince him it wasn't necessary.

* * *

"Settle down, everyone! I hereby call this meeting of the Dursley Watchers to order." Charles waved his hand with a flourish and the room dissolved into laughter.

"What, are we on Roberts Rules now?" A voice shouted from near the bar.

"No, but I'm dying to hear how Elizabeth's chat went with Petunia the other day, so pipe down everyone and let the gossip begin." The laughs cleared quickly and all eyes turned to Elizabeth.

"It was an interesting afternoon, I've a fair amount to say, but the base purpose was a success. Petunia should be making an eye appointment for Harry with Dr Fletcher within the next day or so."

A man seated on one of the couches looked up from the cheese ball. "Yes, she already did. I told her we had a cancellation and gave her the slot I'd reserved just in case this worked. What about the frames? Did you discuss a new style?"

"We didn't get that far, you'll have to take care of that. By the way, just where did you get those crazy questions?"

He smiled broadly, obviously enjoying the thought of her having to repeat them to Petunia. "You asked me for common questions, not only intelligent sounding ones. Believe it or not, those really are the most common questions. There are worse that I didn't include, like the one about if they look at the sun for too long will their eyeballs burn." The room again filled with laughter that he quickly silenced. "It's not that odd of a question from those who know the old survival trick of using a glass lens to focus sunlight to start a fire."

"You mean that actually works? I thought that was just an old wives tale." Came from the group by the windows.

He smiled at the room, nodded and then stuffed a cracker into his mouth.

Elizabeth began to speak, but was quickly interrupted by a man asking, in an embarrassed voice, "Well, if that does work, then how DO you prevent the eyes from burning in the sun?" This time, instead of laughter, they all simply turned to look at Dr. Fletcher; curiosity plain on everyone's face.

The good Doctor looked at Elizabeth, spread more cheese on a cracker and told everyone he'd explain it after the meeting or else someone may take away the cheese ball and he missed lunch.

Elizabeth growled lightly at her friend and turned back to the main group. "I don't want people to be gossiping about this outside of us, but Petunia and Vernon had no idea he was supposed to get regular eye checkups. It seems the original Doctor never mentioned follow-up visits and she assumed that he would keep the same prescription during his lifetime. She thought only adults who's vision went bad slowly needed multiple trips after they got glasses."

She had to break off due to laughter and others complaining that she must have fallen for one of Petunia's schemes.

"No! This wasn't a scheme or play-acting. I've known her several years and I can tell when she's faking. She was genuinely horrified. She said she's never neglected his health before and she knows everyone thinks she does, but that the boy really is just naturally small." She shrugged. "I believe her. When you look closely at Harry, his skin, hair and eyes, he is healthy. She doesn't restrict sweets because she's trying to be cruel, but because he's small and she wants everything he eats to have nutritional value to encourage whatever growth she can get. 'Every calorie that goes in needs to count' was how she put it. She said she feels children today eat too much junk and, if she could get Vernon to agree, she'd make Dudley follow the same rules. When I look at it from that standpoint, it does make a lot of sense and I have to agree with her. Basically, it's quantity vs. quality. He's too small to eat a quantity, so she has to make sure the quality is high."

She took a sip of her drink and settled deeper into her chair. "Just as we finished, Harry came running in to ask about the weeding job" she nodded to the Briggs. " and I watched how they interacted together. It's completely possible that we have very little real understanding of how they function inside that house. This may have started only after we began the campaign, but those two seemed quite comfortable together. He wasn't hesitant with her at all. He even hugged her before he left."

Liz smiled as a moment of silence was followed by frenzied babbling. It was always so gratifying to completely confuse everyone.

* * *

Harry was having a hard time falling asleep. School started tomorrow, and if that wasn't exciting enough, he couldn't stop thinking about how his life had changed since last year. Then he was lying in bed trying not to be embarrassed about the clothes he'd have to wear the next day. Now he had two shelves full of nice clothes that fit him and were not cast-offs. First term last year, he had been really afraid of Uncle Vernon if he did better than Dudley, but now Uncle Vernon wasn't an issue at all. Aunt Petunia had told him on their Sunday about the changes. Uncle Vernon wasn't involved in anything to do with Harry anymore -- it was just Aunt Petunia. He even stopped dishing up his food at mealtimes, now Aunt Petunia filled his plate just the way Harry liked it. She said they should be careful about things because he might change his mind, but if everything stayed running smoothly, this would be permanent. He no longer had to worry about his grades at all, especially linking them to Dudley, because nobody at home but his Aunt would ever see them. She didn't want him to get 100's because that would look odd to the school after his marks last year, but he could do well. She thought he should start out at a few points higher than last term and they'd move it up gradually over the next couple of years. She said that Harry's actual marks didn't matter very much as long as he learned the material, so they could take their time moving his scores up so the teachers wouldn't get suspicious. He was even looking forward to lunch and breaks, instead of dreading them.

All in all, he was very satisfied. Even better, the changes kept on coming. He had new glasses. Never-been-broken glasses. They actually looked pretty good, much better than his old black frames. The eye doctor, Dr Fletcher, had been nice, but seemed a bit nervous. His hands shook a little the first time he touched Harry's head to look into his eyes. He'd shaken his hands out, said 'too much coffee' and then laughed with Aunt Petunia, but it still seemed odd to Harry. Later he got all weird when he realized his hand was on Harry's scar. The Doctor had jerked back, turned first white and then red and asked if he'd hurt Harry by pressing on the scar. Harry hadn't thought he was pressing on it at all. He'd never met anyone so jumpy and nervous; it was a good thing they didn't have to go back for another year.

He thought about the rolled up shopping bag tucked deep into his hidy hole, where Dudley could never fit. Inside was his money from weeding for Mrs. Briggs and his ledger. He'd made more than he thought he would and Mrs. Briggs said some of the other women would hire him to weed after school too. There was already more than enough for a ticket, but Harry had decided to buy a costume to look like a wizard. At the rate he was going, he'd have enough soon.

Aunt Petunia had given him a new kind of notebook, called a ledger, and said he had to use it to track his money. Almost an entire Sunday had been spent on explaining how to use the ledger. She said he had to learn how to manage money. She insisted he record the hours he worked for Mrs. Briggs, along with a description of what he did and how much he made. Then he had to keep a total in another column at the end. She explained how he was to record anything he spent and everything had to be categorized, and she wrote some categories on the inside cover. It seemed like a lot of work to keep track of a very small amount of money, but she said it was important to learn good habits now rather than have to unlearn bad ones later. The best thing was she said she wouldn't look in it. She told him a person's money and financials were private and he should keep them private. On Sundays at lunch, they talked about the ledger. What kind of entries he'd made, if everything was balancing and how often he counted to check the balance etc. But she never asked to see it, just made sure he kept his promise to maintain it, answered any questions he had and exchanged coins for notes when he had enough.

It seemed similar to how she wanted him to learn to use ink. Lily's diary had whole paragraphs devoted to how she both hated and loved using a quill and ink at Hogwarts. She loved the idea of them, and how it looked, but she hated how it blotted and smeared and how hard it was to make a smooth line. It reminded him of what his Aunt had said about the fountain pen and how he should learn to use one. 'It would be a good skill to have', she'd said, exactly what she said about managing money. She didn't make Dudley use a ledger for his allowance. The same with ink, it was just Harry. Obviously, she felt he was going to need both skills more than Dudley. Could this be the confirmation he wanted about the Wizarding World? The ink and fountain pen could be to prepare him for using quills and so it wouldn't be as hard for him as it was for his mum. If he's going to Hogwarts, his muggle grades wouldn't matter, and the ledger… if his mum, and maybe his dad, really did leave him an inheritance, he'd have to know how to manage the money and read ledgers. _Is Aunt Petunia preparing me for all that?_ He got a warm feeling in his center. He knew she didn't love him; and it was possible she still didn't even like him much ( he didn't want to get his hopes up ), but she was taking care of him and making him ready for the world in her own way. It may not be love, but it was something. Just what, Harry had no idea, but he fell asleep smiling.

EOC

Revised Feb 25, 2008

Next: Chapter 10 - New Beginnings

Chapter 11 - Two Boys, Two Worlds


	10. Chpt 10: New Beginnings

**DISCLAIMER**: JKR ownes all Harry Potter characters and canon storyline. If you recognize it, its not mine.

**A/N**: I've begun to fix the previous chapters, sorry to say that's going to slow down the updates a little bit. No major changes, just tense fixes and a few other things. maybe a new line or two here and there for clarity, but nothing major plotwise.

I can't thank everyone enough for all the reviews and alerts. It really means a great deal that people want to follow the story and that they care enough to give an opinion. Thanks again!

P.

* * *

**Chapter 10 - New Beginnings**

"Where is he? I'm not seeing him…" Ian craned his neck as the two men jostled for position in front of the hall window overlooking the school courtyard.

"He's over there," John pointed out. "Looks like new glasses. They make quite a difference in his appearance. You just don't know him well enough yet to pick him out of a crowd." He teased.

They both fell silent as they appraised the young boy. He was as well dressed as many of the other children and, although smaller, he looked tan, healthy and happy. John couldn't help but compare his appearance to what he looked like during first term last year. In addition to the physical changes, he seemed to carry himself with an air of confidence that John was certain hadn't been there before. Both he and Ian also noticed that as Harry joined a group of children, several of them glanced nervously over to Dudley.

John spoke up. "Seeing young Dursley down there reminds me. I spoke with his new teacher, Janet. She's already been contacted by his mother. She wants weekly reports on her son's marks. Detailed reports; evidently just like she received last term. You'll never guess when Maeve started giving those out."

"I'm almost afraid to ask."

"You'll like this one; it fits a couple of your theories. She met with Mrs. Dursley the very day after young Harry received his perfect math score and I sent the exam home to be signed. She came by the school every following Friday until the end of term."

Ian smiled smugly. "It's nice to have confirming facts line up with ones theories. I can't wait to see what he does on the first round of marks. Janet's agreed to keep us updated on Dudley's grades?"

"Yes, I had to promise to tell her everything once it's resolved. The old man still going to let us handle the situation?"

"So far. I met with him again yesterday. It helps that we have data showing Harry is likely ahead of his year so it hasn't caused him to fall behind."

John laughed. "Especially since that data indicates he can get any mark he wants. I wonder what he's going to do this term. Dudley minus x; aim for a specific grade or just stay near Dudley's levels."

"That question has kept my mind humming this last month. Whatever he does is going to tell us a great deal about the home situation. I'd like to have a good handle on that before our meeting with the Aunt. You had a good point up at the lake, about the new clothes and Dudley's decrease in bullying. Our lad's new glasses are another sign in that direction. The Aunt may very well be dealing with the situation, just slowly."

"It's possible she's bringing the Uncle along carefully. It fits a bit with the things Ellen noticed."

"Careful I can understand, but they've had months during last term and the whole summer. The Uncle had best be on board because their slow time is up. I won't allow a child to be held back, or in this case, slowed down. The game ends and he's going to be tested and placed in the appropriate class." He moved back from the window and adjusted his jacket. "Heaven help her if she hasn't been working to fix things, if she's part of the problem. I won't hesitate to do whatever is necessary to protect one of my kids."

They shared a glance as the bell rang and the children began queuing up outside behind the class signs. They walked shoulder to shoulder down the stairs to pick up their line of new students.

At the sound of the bell, Harry joined the other children massing into uneven lines. He found his easily -- blue #2. By happy coincidence, the first boy to talk to him last year joined the same queue. Harry had high hopes that he might become his first friend. He watched his teacher from last year come out the doors with another man. Mr. Mick caught Harry's eyes and smiled, the child responded with a smile and small wave. He really liked Mr. Mick, especially how he didn't make them try to say his whole last name. Harry crossed his fingers, hoping that this year's teacher would be just as nice. To his surprise, the man with Mr. Mick moved to the front of Harry's queue and started counting heads. He too caught Harry's eye and smiled at him. Soon the headmaster was going through the same process as last year. Numbers and colors were called out, the teacher introduced and the children followed the sign-carrying teacher into the building and to their new classroom.

Harry's line followed Mr. Llewelyn to an open door outlined in blue paper.

"Hello everyone. This will be your classroom for the year. If you get lost or forget which room, just remember its blue 2. We've got the number 2 on the door and blue paper around the doorway so it should be easy to spot that way. I want everyone to stand at the back of the room while I assign your seats, alright? Let's all go inside now."

Ian gestured to the children and they all filed into the room. The seating chart was something Ian had spent a lot of time on over the summer and he made short work of getting everyone seated. He felt great satisfaction as Harry took the desk in front of his own. He especially enjoyed the flash of calculation in the child's eyes when he announced his lesson plan; the first week would be a review of last year's material followed by tests before they began any new material. He gave Harry a smile and then engaged his class in their review.

At lunchtime, Harry sat on the edge of one of the groups he played with during the summer. Last year he always sat alone, but he decided to try and change that this term. The other children sent a lot of nervous looks Dudley's way, but his disinterest in his cousin encouraged them to let Harry stay. He didn't want to push his luck, so he spoke little and was mostly left to his own thoughts, pleased to be allowed this small amount of social acceptance.

So far, his day was going well, a stark contrast to the first day last year. His teacher seemed kind and his only worry was class discussions. Yesterday, he'd been looking forward to doing fairly well in class; now he couldn't seem to figure out how to behave. He was too used to pretending not to know the answers during discussions and avoiding being chosen. The switch was harder than he thought it would be, mainly because he still had to be careful not to know too much. Harry couldn't find the balance. During lunch, he decided to ask Aunt Petunia about it after school. She should have some ideas and maybe she could help him practice.

Alone, he left the cafeteria and saw one of his few semi friends. Harry headed his way with a huge grin.

"Hullo Mr. Lester!"

The old man smiled down at the boy. "Hello there, Harry. Looks like you had a good summer. Nice glasses."

Harry nodded shyly and touched his new frames. "It was a great summer, best ever. I got the books you left out for me by the bins. I picked out some others too. Thank you for them, and for the blank workbooks. I wasn't expecting those, thanks for getting them for me." He looked at the mop and full bucket on wheels. "Did someone make a mess?"

"No more than normal. I'm just getting ready to clean up the lunchroom after the bell rings. And you're welcome about the books. Did you make good use of them? Any questions for me?"

Dark head bobbing, Harry replied. "Lots. My Aunt got me some new notebooks this summer and I'm using one just for questions. Can I come see you tomorrow?"

"Absolutely. I'll look forward to it. Meet you outside, same place as before."

They smiled and nodded at each other, then Harry left for class while the old janitor entered the lunchroom; both well pleased.

oooooOooooOooooO

Harry's week moved quickly and was fuller than normal. Aunt Petunia's tips helped him in class discussions, but his teacher seemed to be showing a lot of interest in him; and that made Harry nervous. He had two more clients for weeding to keep his afternoons busy and he had to make up a schedule to put on the wall of his cupboard to remind himself where he was supposed to be each day. Although the money was nice, he was glad there were only a few weeks before weeds stopped growing. He even managed to talk to Sarah at the store about Halloween costumes. She said they wouldn't get the new ones in for a few weeks yet, but she would take a look at the leftovers from last year and see if they had any witch or wizard costumes. She also agreed to keep it a secret. The last thing he needed was for Aunt Petunia to get suspicious. London was getting closer.

He had finally finished his Mum's first year in the diary and was reading her first summer. The entries here were spotty, so it went fast. Lily seemed to have less to do with Petunia than she had the summer before Hogwarts. She very rarely mentioned her and they seemed never to play together.

Lily had received an owl for her birthday and she spent a great deal of time writing letters to her school friends, doing summer homework, and reading new books she bought in Diagon Alley. No mention was made of friends she had before Hogwarts. She and her Dad went into London on something called the Knight Bus that she heard about at school. It sounded odd, but handy for getting around. After that trip, her Dad allowed her to take the Knight Bus into Diagon Alley to meet different friends and their parents once a week. They ran about the Alley and ate a lot of ice cream. Never once did she bring her sister along.

Midway through the summer, Lily went to stay with one of her friends for a few weeks. She wrote pages and pages about living in a magical household. Harry was again enthralled to read how everything worked and about house elves. They flew on broomsticks, played exploding snap and gobstones, and used the floo to visit other friends. She met her father in Diagon Alley to do her school shopping with her friends and their parents and then went home with her Dad. A quick week and she was off to Hogwarts again on the Express, only this time she didn't write very much about it, to Harry's relief. He enjoyed reading about the feast and sorting from a different perspective than the last time, especially about how the hat was supposed to be a secret. He couldn't help grinning at the thought that he would be the only one in his year who would know about the hat.

Since school was all boring review, the time Harry wasn't weeding or reading the diary, he spent on the advanced school books. He wanted to learn something new and he didn't have research on London or vegetable gardens anymore to tickle his mind. Indeed, his London plan was complete and written on special pages, in ink, in his notebook. Everything was separated into muggle and wizard related sections. He even had a section for Gringotts with questions for the Goblins, if they existed of course. He always tried to remember to add that. He learned long ago about getting his hopes up about anything.

oooOoooOoooOooo

One afternoon, late in the second week of school, John strode into Ian's classroom and motioned for him to join him at the window.

"I'm glad you haven't left yet; come take a look at this. Your windows should have a good view. I was just leaving when I noticed them."

"What? Who? I don't see anything." John pulled him over so he could see around a corner of the building.

"Our boy, that's what. He's over there with old Lester."

"The janitor?" Ian pushed closer to the window and watched as Harry and the old man looked in a book and then Harry's arms waved as they chatted. "What's going on down there?"

"You can't see from here, but that's a science book. I can't tell if its year 4 or 5, their covers are too similar."

Ian looked at John with eyebrows raised, exhaled in a huff and then watched as the pair moved to cross the play yard, aiming towards the woods.

"Should we follow?"

"I don't think so. They'll see us and your room has an excellent view if they stay on that angle. The old man is safe, he'd never hurt a child."

Ian settled on the ledge and watched as Lester motioned toward various trees and bushes, then picked Harry up and held the boy aloft to pluck a leaf from a tree. The two then settled down on the grass looking at the leaf, the textbook and a notebook.

Ian's head tilted. "That's not what he was wearing today in class. He must have gone home and changed, then returned for his science lesson."

While Harry appeared to be tracing the leaf in his notebook, Lester arose and picked more leaves from different bushes, shrubs, vines and grasses, then gave them to the child. The two teachers watched as the janitor continued the lesson.

John smiled at the obvious look of absorption on the boys face. "We wondered what other adults he had available; I never guessed it would be someone from the school here. Think Mr. Lester teaches Math as well?"

Ian chuckled and shook his head. "Quite possibly. But I do doubt he would be involved in helping a child manipulate his grades. He may have explained percentages, but wouldn't have had any clue how Harry was using it. I don't think he's our post-100 collaborator; possibly pre, but not the post stuff."

"No, I agree. I thought about that on the way in. I was huffing to myself about his never coming to me and then I realized he has no access to the children's grades nor is he in the staff room listening to gossip. He probably thinks Harry's a top student and that his teacher marvels at how advanced he is, never knowing he's taking afternoon lessons from the school janitor." He propped himself up on an adjoining ledge. "I'm jealous. I've never gotten that look on Harry's face during my lessons." He snorted. "Guess that means I've never taught him something brand new. What a depressing thought."

Ian never took his eyes off Harry as he spoke. "I've not seen it either, but we've barely begun the new material. Their last review test was on Monday. Well, at least now I'll know how to tell if he's engaged in learning something new. I wish I could see his eyes from here; his attitude, posture, everything seems totally different than when he's in class. Its like we're seeing the real Harry for the first time." He paused for a moment and then continued. "You know what Lester's involvement means about the home, right?"

"Yes, there's nobody there he can go to with his academic questions. One more topic for the meeting with the Aunt." After a moment, John gave a nod towards the pair sitting under the trees. "Are you going to do anything about that now?"

Ian considered for a while and then shook his head no. "He **is** learning, they both look to be enjoying themselves and, as you said, Lester is safe. He's not taking him anywhere; they're on school grounds, right out in the open. I won't interrupt, but I may have Mr. Lester available when I meet with the Aunt and I'll have to talk to him about the tutoring."

"Yea, why should he have all the fun? I think I want in on these afternoon sessions."

"You and me both, mate. You and me both. A kid like that's a teachers dream. He's so eager to learn, he must find the pace in school infuriatingly slow. Good God, year four science…" he mused quietly.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching. John couldn't stop thinking about lost opportunities while Ian wondered how to challenge a child who spends his afternoons studying material years ahead of the other students. John eventually asked about Harry's performance during the last week.

A smug smile on his face, Ian shared his opinion. "Oh he's good John, very good. If I wasn't looking for it, I might have missed it entirely. I can see how you did. You have to watch closely at just the right moments to catch the intelligence in his eyes or the calculating look he gets at the beginning of a test. He really is analyzing everything to come up with the optimal façade to fool me. I purposefully didn't number the questions on several of the review tests just so I could watch him go through and count the questions. I love the look in his eyes while he's deciding what score to get and which questions to miss, it's the most alive look he gets during the day."

Ian paused in thought for a moment before continuing. "He can't quite hide that yet and I only see it because I put him in the front. Another year and he'll probably be able to mask that as well. If he's working out of that book out there, I suspect he's bored stiff in class; this game of his may be the only thing keeping him awake."

He shifted his position and his tone changed. "He has a different plan for this year. I'm not sure what it is yet. He's not following Dudley's grades; he seems to be playing his own game this time. Surprisingly, Dudley did better on the review tests than he did at the end of the year. Janet said he told her his parents worked with him over the summer, she asked if his cousin studied with him and he said no. Harry still out performed him in every subject."

He raised his eyebrows to signal something coming up. "He tested at three to six points over his year end across the board. The higher number was in his lowest subject last year, like he was bringing them all up, evening them out. His classroom participation was a bit spotty the first week, but it's settled down. He's putting his persona in place and, evidently, it's going to be different from last years. I want another couple of weeks watching how he does on new material. I don't have his pattern yet and that bothers me. I wanted to have data on this year's scam when we met with the Aunt, but I'm having trouble locking it down. Last year's manipulations were so obvious; whatever he's doing now is simply more subtle, which leads to the conclusion that he definitely has an adult involved. Well, this term it's still too early to discard the idea of there being a relationship to Dudley's marks; I'm hoping one shows up. Once I have an idea of what he's up to, then I'll set the trap for the meeting. Shouldn't take long."

They shared smiles full of anticipation and then returned to watching the small boy and the janitor.

oooOoooOoooOoooOooo

"Harry!"

He jumped back from the onion display and looked around. Sarah was behind him, laughing.

"I didn't mean to startle you that much! You here for your Aunt?"

"Yes, she asked me to pick up a bag of onions on my way home today."

"Well, it's a good thing you did. I found some old costumes you might be interested in. Do you want to take a look?"

"Yes!" then he remembered and dropped his voice to a whisper "Where are they?"

Sarah smiled and whispered back "I've got them in the kitchen so you can look at them and nobody will see. Come on, we can come back for the onions."

Harry followed Sarah through the back of the store and into a small break room with a table, chairs, small fridge and microwave. She picked up a bag tucked into a corner, set it on the table and pulled out several boxes of children's Halloween costumes.

"Here you go. Lots of these have damaged boxes and are missing bits, so they would be on clearance sale. If you find something that will work, set it aside and put the other boxes in the bag. There's a mirror here on the door. I'll be back in about ten minutes. Will that be enough time?"

Harry nodded distractedly as he looked through the boxes. She shook her head and left him to it. He sorted through quickly using the pictures on the boxes and put all his possibles off to one side. None of them really looked like the descriptions his mum wrote, but some weren't too far off. He tried them on and looked in the mirror. He looked stupid, but he thought the descriptions in the diary sounded stupid, so maybe this was good? If Diagon Alley really was there, the first thing he would do, after getting money out of his mum's vault, would be to buy real robes. Finally, there were only two boxes left on the table. Harry liked the robe in one, but the other's pointy hat fit better, further down on his head.

As he folded everything back up, Sarah returned. "Did you find one?"

"Yea, I like the robe in this box, but the hat in this one fits better. Can we switch hats?" Before he even finished his sentence, Sarah had done the switch and put the other box away. She handed him the box with his robe and hat. A few minutes later and he was on his way home, costume in his school satchel and bag of onions in hand. His last London snag removed.

That night in his cupboard, Harry updated his ledger with his purchase and calculated his new balance. As Aunt Petunia instructed, he then counted his money to make sure the amounts matched. Hiding money in his satchel for the costume turned out to have been a good idea. He was learning to think ahead and plan.

Harry smiled, pulled out his London planning list and checked off wizard robe. His list was completely done now, except for reading the diary. Suddenly, Harry felt that sense of urgency again. He wanted to get to London and Diagon Alley. It was easy to say he would wait to go when he didn't have everything, but now he did and he didn't want to wait any longer. He wished he had sickles for the Knight Bus. If it turned out to be real, he'd get a bag of sickles so he could use it whenever he wanted.

He spent a few minutes looking at the diary to see how much was left. He was half way through the second year and it was going much faster than before. Harry wasn't sure if his reading was getting faster or if there was less on each page. His Dad's gang was still picking on Severus -- with meaner pranks and a nasty nickname of 'Snivelus' -- but Lily didn't say too much about it, other than to note what they did and their gloating in the common room, nor did she say much about James himself. She had a crush on a Ravenclaw boy and wrote mostly about him. His name was Ambrose, and Harry was very glad she hadn't stuck with him; he sounded stuffy and pompous. Not to mention Harry would hate to have a dad named Ambrose, worse would be if Harry's middle name were Ambrose, like it was James now. He decided to skip over some of the Ambrose stuff and maybe some class stuff too. If he did that, it would go a lot faster. He could always come back and read it later. Lily gushing over Ambrose couldn't be important for his trip to Diagon Alley. He also noticed that his dad's gang didn't prank Ambrose, who had friends.

From then on, Harry began to skim his way through the diary. He also started carrying his Underground map in his satchel. He liked to look at it and rehearse the route to Charing Cross and to some of his other favorite London sights. He was getting excited and was hoping Bran still hung out at the station. Another week passed and Harry was reading Lily's third year at Hogwarts, her summer having passed similar to the one before, just with fewer pages. He found a sentence confirming the transfer of her inheritance into her vault and was more eager than ever to get to Diagon Alley and talk to the Goblins.

oooOoooOoooOoooOooo

While his class was in the library, Miss Matson, the assistant librarian, pulled him between the stacks. "Harry, I've some books set aside that we're getting rid of because of damage. Do you want to look through them and see if there's anything you might like?"

He looked at her wide-eyed and silent. She chuckled at his face. "Don't look so surprised, I know you pull textbook discards out of the bin during the summer and that Mr. Lester helps you with them. It's also hard to miss those questions you ask me about things you shouldn't be studying yet. Don't worry, I won't tell. Although why you like to pretend not to be as smart as you are, I'll never understand."

Harry was scared, if she told, he didn't know what would happen. "You really won't tell anyone?"

She nodded.

"Why?"

"Well, that's hard to answer. I guess because it doesn't hurt anyone that I can see. It's not holding you back because you're moving ahead on your own. You're learning; you just don't want anyone to know it yet. You must have your reasons; you've never struck me as a silly child." She bent down to whisper "Plus, I guess I just like knowing something they don't, especially when they snub me for looking odd." She motioned, smiling, to her piercings and bright hair and then gave him a serious look. "You are going to eventually stop this, right? Your grades now don't matter much in the scheme of things, but they will start to matter as you get older."

He smiled in relief. "Yes, I'll stop in a while. I'm going to get better grades this year and next year I'll do better again. But, I doubt I'll ever let them know how far ahead I am. I'll just start getting better and better grades. I can't see how anyone needs to know how far ahead I've worked."

"That's fine for now. Just so you make sure you get the best grades you can your last few years here. The next school up has access to an accelerated learning program for the smart ones. You want to be able to get into that, trust me. The outstanding kids in that program are offered scholarships to some of the best prep schools in the country and then scholarships to the best Universities. With your brains, that should be easy, and," she looked around and smiled conspiratorially "you can get far away from your cousin with a scholarship to pay your way at a boarding school. The thing is, to get one, you will have to have top marks and you will have to, at some point, show them just how far ahead you really are. Come talk to me later this term and I'll show you what I have on the programs and we can make a plan, alright?"

"All right." He couldn't tell her that if everything went the way he wanted, he'd be going to Hogwarts and learning magic - very far away from Dudley. He guessed it wouldn't hurt to have a backup plan, just in case. If magic's not real, then he'd need a scholarship or there wouldn't be any University in Harry's future. He heard Uncle Vernon go on to Dudley this summer about how important it was now to attend a good prep school and have a University degree. If Harry didn't have the Wizarding world, he'd need one too and he knew Uncle Vernon would never pay.

"Stop by after school. Mrs. Browne is leaving early today so we don't have to worry about her."

"Alright, I'd better…" he motioned to the rest of the class. She smiled and patted his shoulder as she moved back to the counter.

That afternoon he returned to the library and spent a pleasant hour sorting through books and chatting with the librarian. Once he had his choices, she stamped them Damaged Discard in red and held open his satchel so he could put them away.

"Harry, what's this?"

He groaned. She had his Underground map with the stop and changes marked.

"Why do you have this Harry?" She stared at the silent child in front of her and realized he was planning to go to London, alone; that's the only answer he would be afraid to give. It only took a moment for her to make a decision.

"I'm not letting you go alone -- so when are we going?" At the look on his face, she added, "I'm going with you."

She laughed at his expression. "Best close that mouth Harry, something could fly in there. Sit down love and I'll try to explain this." Once he was settled and paying attention, she began. "Firstly, there is no way I would tell your Aunt or Uncle, and there is no way I can keep you from going without doing so. I doubt it would stop you anyway; you would just take your punishment and go afterwards or before. The best thing is to go with you so you aren't alone, and then keep you out of trouble and make sure you get home again. There's a saying: If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. It's true in this case. I know you well enough to know I can't stop you, so I'll join you. Now, you're wondering why I won't tell them."

She looked down a moment, then back up. "This is in confidence, mind you. We had a conference with your Aunt and Uncle last year about Dudley's behavior in the library. Needless to say; it didn't go well. I'd not tell those people anything, especially anything about you."

Harry simply stared then managed to say that he was meeting someone there and wouldn't be alone once he got to London, but then she wanted to know who he was meeting and how long he'd known Bran and so on. She was unstoppable. Somehow, when he left for home, they had an appointment for Saturday morning and Miss Matson wanted to meet Bran and stay with Harry. He tried telling her a story about how he was going to a shop to meet someone to talk about his Mum and Dad and they wouldn't talk if someone else was there, but it didn't work. She just said she would wait outside the shop or in a shop next door. For all her unconventional looks, she seemed to have very conventional ideas when it came to Harry being in London.

He was halfway home before it hit him. He was going to London on Saturday, just a couple more days and he would know everything. He started to run; he needed to get reading and finish the diary.

oooOoooOoooOoooOooo

Saturday morning Harry was so nervous he could barely eat his breakfast, and was thankful he sat alone in the kitchen and didn't have to answer to his Aunt's sharp eyes. Once again, he told her that he would be gone all day and she packed a large lunch after breakfast wash-up. In his cupboard, he checked the contents of his satchel against his list and felt for the extra money he had hidden in his sock. He counted out more for his pocket and, on impulse, dropped his ledger into the satchel as well. He might as well update it as he went during the day. Lastly, he tucked the diary in, closed the flap and with a deep breath, left the cupboard and number 4.

ooOooOoo

Harry stood on the same chair he had huddled in last time he was there. His eyes searched the station crowd eagerly. Miss. Matson tugged on his trousers. "Harry, it's not likely he'd be here again. We should just head for the Tube."

"He'll be here, I'm sure he'll be here." She laughed as he playfully swatted her hand away before she could pull him down.

Suddenly Harry saw Bran crossing towards him. He yelled out his name, jumped off the chair, ran weaving through the crowd and with one leap, threw himself into Bran's arms. The man hesitated for a moment in surprise and then grabbed the boy close and spun once, rubbing the child's back and hugging him. They came to a rest with Bran's arm underneath Harry, supporting him against his side, the boy's arms around his neck and grinning at each other.

Harry said simply "You're here."

To which Bran replied "and so are you; you made it back. You don't know how glad I am to see you my little man. I was beginning to think you'd given up on London."

Small head shaking, he smiled as he spoke. "No, I was always coming back. I just did as you said and made a plan and then I had to wait to finish reading everything just in case she wrote more that I would need to know. I should have done that last time, but I didn't and I found a section about trains and stations that would have helped lots. So I decided to do what you said and make sure I knew everything before acting."

Bran's ears perked "She wrote more about where you're going?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply when Miss Matson walked up smiling. "This must be the famous Bran."

The pair turned to her with smiles, Bran's somewhat forced. '_Depending on perspective, this woman either has the worst timing ever, or the best._' "Who's your friend here; did you meet someone on the train?"

"No, this is my school librarian, Miss Matson."

Bran's eyes widened; taking in the young woman with dyed magenta hair, brow piercing, multiple ear piercings, and black clothes. "Suburban schools are REALLY different than I'd thought."

She laughed and held her hand out. "Call me Sophie. The head librarian, Mrs. Browne, surely fits all your preconceptions about librarians in suburban schools. I'm the junior; this is only my third year at the school. I've been around just long enough to become friends with this little guy here and scandalize the district."

Bran turned his head to the boy on his hip with a raised eyebrow and Harry answered his unasked question.

"She found my Underground map and figured out I was coming to London. She wouldn't let me go alone and she might come with us on the Underground, but she calls it the Tube. She bought my train ticket even though I had money."

"Well, that's nice of her and handy for you as well. Saves you the bother of folks trying to haul you off to the lost and found eh? Like a piece of unaccompanied luggage you were!" He tickled Harry's ribs and the boy giggled and looked pleased with the attention. "Thanks for looking out for him, but I've got him now so you can head on. I'll keep him safe and make sure he gets home." At the expression on her face, he continued, "you can even copy down the info on my ID card if you like. I'm perfectly safe; I took good care of him before."

Harry nodded emphatically. Sophie shook her head no. "I'm sure you are; I just can't leave him. My conscience would bother me all day. You two have a tagalong. I'll try not to get in the way."

"Alright then." Bran swung Harry down to the ground and then knelt on one knee in front of him. "Well mate, we had a deal last time. Are you ready?"

Harry nodded.

"What's in your pocket?" Bran smiled at the grin on Harry's face. Harry reached in and pulled out his return ticket.

"My return ticket, plus extra money just in case." Bran took a good look at the ticket and then handed it back to the child.

"Good man. Do you have a plan and know where you're going?" The boy nodded and patted his satchel.

"I'm assuming you've also got one of your Aunt's massive lunches in there as well. Let's go sit down and go over your plan. They've seats upstairs and we can get something to drink. Sound good?"

Everyone nodded so he led the way upstairs and to a table away from the crowd. He pulled out a note and asked Sophie if she wouldn't mind getting them all drinks. The two adults stared as Harry admitted he'd never had a soft drink before and didn't know what he liked. Bran suggested a Fanta and she left them to their discussion. Bran was eager to pick up where they left off before Sophie arrived.

"Down below you mentioned that she wrote more about trains and things that would have helped you last time. Did you find out any more about where you're going?"

Harry shifted, not sure what to say. "Not about the outside, the address or anything. But she did write more about the inside and about the stuff I want to ask when I get there. I should have read everything the first time."

"Are they letters? Do you mind me asking?"

He thought for a moment. "No, I guess not. You don't know anyone back home so I guess it doesn't matter if I tell you; there's nobody you could tell. It's my Mum's diary from when she was a little girl. My Aunt can't know I've got it. I'm not supposed to know the stuff in it until I'm older."

"How old was your Mum when she wrote in it?"

"10 to 13."

Bran sat back in his chair. "Well… that covers some important years. It must have been interesting reading."

Harry laughed. "Very!"

"How did you get a hold of it without your Aunt knowing?"

"She doesn't know about the diary at all, even that it exists. It's a secret diary hidden in a fake book. It was in a box of my Mum's old books that my Aunt gave me. My Mum left them behind when she moved out and married my Dad; then my Aunt packed them all up after my grandparents died, so now they're mine. My Mum never told my Aunt about the diary so she thought it was just another book in the bookcase. I found it when I was putting them away in my new shelves. I dropped it and saw it was handwriting instead of being typed."

"Sounds like that was a lucky find for you."

Harry nodded in agreement and motioned that Sophie was on her way back. "Ah, yes, I won't mention it in front of her. Let's go over your plan."

He pulled out his notebook and showed his plan to Bran as Sophie put the drinks down on the table. He was glad he thought ahead and put the wizard stuff in a separate section.

Sophie sat back; sipping her soda and watched Harry and Bran interact. She knew Harry didn't have a relationship with his Uncle; the man had made his animosity towards the child perfectly clear during that meeting almost a year ago. Outside of Lester, she didn't think he had any adult male influences in his life and was amazed at how comfortable he was with Bran. Their chairs were close together with the man's arm draped across the back of Harry's. The child leaned against him, perfectly at ease while they looked at his maps, paged through his notebook and discussed all the things he'd read about London. Sometimes his hand would come up to rest on Harry's shoulder or tousle his hair. She couldn't fail to miss the small smile on the child's face every time that happened. In the end, Bran's hand rubbed the back of Harry's head as he told him how proud he was and what a good research job the boy had done while Harry blushed and glowed at the praise. For only having met once before, they were incredibly comfortable together. She'd have to keep an eye out. Even though there were no odd vibes and his affection seemed completely paternal and genuine, you never knew, and Harry seemed to have few enough people interested in his welfare. That disastrous meeting had shown his family certainly wasn't. They'd kept trying to blame their son's behavior on Harry, even though the boys were in different classes and never in the Library at the same time. Sophie came back to the present as Bran cleared the table.

They were shortly on their way, down those escalators to the Underground, with Harry's hand firmly grasped in Bran's. He'd told Harry to keep a firm hold on him and warned that if the crowds became dense in the tunnels, that he'd likely pick Harry up so he could see and not be in danger of being swept away. Indeed, when they changed trains he did just that and Harry was glad. It was like a maze down there; they went up stairs and down others and took several branching tunnels to get to the next train. He was extremely glad not to be alone and decided not to travel by himself on the Tube for a while yet, at least until he was several inches taller.

Eventually, they were outside on Charing Cross Road and much to Harry's amazement; he could already see The Leaky Cauldron across and further down the street. The outside looked exactly like his mum had written. He also noticed oddly dressed people going in and out. Wizard clothes…_IT'S ALL TRUE!_ _I'm not a freak -- I'm a wizard!_ He caught his breath and felt a hand rubbing his back. He gradually heard Bran's soft voice in his ear, asking if he could see where he needed to go. He realized Bran was still holding him and turned to see his smile.

"Do you see it? The place you're going?" Bran asked again in a soft voice.

"Yes…" Harry breathed, then he turned back to stare. Everything was like his mum had described, the inside had to be the same. Now all he had to do was get in there, alone.

He felt Bran pull him into a brief hug before putting him down and once again taking his hand.

"Right, then. Let's go this way and find a spot out of the way to regroup." Bran led them past the Leaky Cauldron and then crossed the street just a few doors down from the pub so they were now on the same side. They paused just inside a service alley and Bran motioned Sophie closer.

"We should walk around a bit and get our bearings, especially Harry. I want him to know the area within a couple blocks of here. There's a bookstore over there that I've gone to and I think it would be the perfect place for us to meet up once he's done." He pointed to a shop kitty corner to where they were standing, away from the pub. Harry nodded in agreement, but Sophie spoke up.

"I don't think he should go anywhere alone. I'll go in with him."

"NO!" Harry shouted before continuing in a normal voice. "I have to go in by myself, nobody can go with me."

"Harry, it's not safe for a boy to be…" She broke of as Bran interrupted.

"Sophie, stop. This is mid-morning on Charing Cross Road, not Trafalgar Square at midnight. Most importantly, this has nothing to do with us. This is Harry's meeting and there are some things people have to do on their own. You said you wouldn't interfere. Were you lying?"

"Of course not! But we shouldn't leave him."

"Yes we should. If we don't, he'll simply come back another time without us. Do you plan to camp out at the Little Whinging train station?"

She breathed out in a huff, then leaned against the building. "He would, wouldn't he. That's the whole reason I came along with him instead of telling someone to try and stop him." She gave Harry a stern look. "You must promise us to not go anywhere else but to whatever shop you're meeting is at and to the bookstore."

Harry paused, trying to think how to get out of this one. "I promise that when I'm done and I come back out onto the street here, I'll come straight to the bookstore. I won't go anywhere on this street other than the shop and bookstore."

Bran made a strange noise and then coughed. "Good, that's settled. Maybe we shouldn't waste any time or argue more; you see the bookstore Harry right? And you can see where you're going?" Harry nodded to both. "Ok, Sophie and I will head over there. You join us when you're done. Take your time. I expect you'll be a long while, likely after lunch, so don't worry. If there's a change in plans, you can send someone to the bookstore to get us or tell us what's happening, alright? You'll just need to describe us both and what we're wearing. I don't expect any problems; this is just in case. One of us will be in the bookstore at all times."

"Alright." Harry hoped nobody noticed the small quaver in his voice. Now that the moment was here, he wished more than anything that Bran could go in there with him, but un-related muggles couldn't be told. The things his mum wrote about the Secrecy Act were very clear on that issue. He didn't want to find the Wizarding world only to get in trouble the first day.

Bran gave him another hug, tousled his hair and then smoothed it down over his forehead. They stood there for a few moments looking at each other until Bran told him he'd do fine, squeezed his shoulder and, with one nervous look at Harry, hustled Sophie across the street. For all his talk, Bran was obviously not as comfortable leaving Harry as he made it sound.

Harry was left standing just inside the service alley, the perfect place to put on his wizard clothes, although he'd wait to put the hat on until he was inside. He watched Bran and Sophie enter the bookstore and then he moved further into the alley and dug his robe costume out of his satchel. He gave it a good shake and then put it on over his clothes, looked down at himself and laughed aloud.

"I look like a right idiot. I don't think this looks much like real wizard robes, but it'll have to do."

He was startled as a voice came from the alley entrance. "Your right, it doesn't look much like a wizard robe, but you don't look too much like an idiot. I've seen worse. You just look old fashioned."

Harry looked up in surprise and saw a small boy about his size standing just inside the alley smirking at him. He wasn't wearing regular clothes. Harry realized those must be wizard robes for boys and this was a young wizard.

"Hello, I like your robes. Did you come from in there - Diagon Alley?" He nodded in the direction of the pub. The boy nodded back and asked his own question. "Are you a muggle and how do you know about inside?"

Harry grinned. "No, I'm a wizard too." He said proudly, "I've just never been inside there and I live with muggle relatives. I'm not supposed to know about my parents being magical and that I'm a wizard, but I found out this summer and decided to come and see things and talk to the Goblins at Gringotts about my inheritance. Can you show me where to get robes like that in there? And how to get to Gringotts?"

The boy grinned back at him and proposed a deal. "How about we trade? If you show me around out here in the muggle world and tell me how things work, I'll do the same in there. Deal?"

"Deal." And Harry strode forward with his hand out. The other boy looked startled and confused.

"What are you doing? We haven't been formally introduced."

"Shaking hands. It's what you do when you make a deal with someone. You shake on it, to seal the deal. Wizards don't do that?"

"No, I've never seen it done for that." He looked disdainfully at the hand still waiting in mid-air. Harry cocked his head.

"Well, we aren't in the wizard world right now, are we? This looks like muggle London to me, and you said you wanted to know how things worked…' Harry gave a small laugh, then shrugged and waited.

The boy looked at Harry, cocked his own head, took his hand and suddenly laughed as well. The two boys shook and grinned at each other, both feeling like they may just be on the way to making their first real friend; one who could also show them a new world.

* * *

EOC

Revised loaded May 16 ,2008

Next: Chapter 11: Two Boys; Two Worlds


	11. Chpt 11: Two Boys Two Worlds

**A/N:** I know that my choice of the other boy will make some happy and irritate others. I'll explain more at the end of the chapter.

On another note: yes, I know Cell phones weren't all that small back then, but this is AU and I'm playing with it because I need them to be using them. Also, I recall being told by international friends that mobile's were used more in Europe and Australia before they became so common in the US. So, let's all agree to suspend our disbelief and pretend that England had a variant of a mobile phone that could be easily carried about, I'm not saying it's small, but it's carry-able in a jacket. If we're going to be believing that magic is real, then we can also believe in my phone… Frankly, the phone is closer to reality… ;-)

* * *

**Chapter 11 - Two Boys -- Two Worlds**

The boys stepped back from each other after shaking hands and the young wizard looked out at the busy street thoughtfully. Harry couldn't help but stare. He'd never met someone his size before who didn't seem really young. This boy seemed like his age.

"How old are you? I'm 8." Harry blurted out, unable to stop himself.

"Me too, I'm 8 and half…" The other answered slowly with wide eyes.

"You're small like me! I've never seen anyone else like me."

"Of course not; we're rare. We're both obviously going to be very powerful wizards when we grow up." He smirked proudly as he made this announcement.

"Huh?"

The small blond paled. "Oh Merlin, I shouldn't have said that!"

"What did you mean? What does being small have to do with being powerful?"

The boy shifted uncomfortably, looked around and then moved a bit closer again with a worried frown on his face.

"Don't say anything about this to anyone, alright? I forgot it's a family secret, that there's a link between strong magic and growing real slow. I've just never met someone small like me either and I wasn't thinking. It's easy to remember not to say anything when it's like boasting and the other person can't do anything about it, but it's not bragging with you cuz you're just like me and I forgot."

"Alright, I won't. But that doesn't seem like something that could be a secret. Both things are kind of obvious aren't they? Someone else must notice small children becoming strong wizards, if it's true."

"It's true!" The boy seemed insulted that Harry might not believe him.

The blond explained; occasionally sounding as if he were reciting a lesson with well-learned phrases. "Being small means we're growing our magical core, our magic instead of our bodies. You can't grow both very well at the same time. It has to switch off. Our being small is because magic isn't giving our bodies much growing time at all and it's using all our energy to develop our magical core. The first two decades of life are an important time for developing the magical core's structure, capacity and stability, which will be the base of future magical ability. The first decade, where we are now, seems especially critical."

Harry gave the boy an odd look. "You sounded just like a textbook."

Two spots of color bloomed high in the boy's pale cheeks. "I guess I did. My father quizzes me on it and I have to get pieces of it right word for word. My family studies it: the link between magical and physical growth. Magical children always grow slower than muggles and all the strongest wizards were small as children and grew slower than the others. I won't reach my full size until I'm in my late twenties. You're smaller, so you may take even longer. You do know that wizards live lots longer than muggles, right?"

Harry nodded. His mum had written about that and about how her headmaster was over 100.

The other boy began wandering up and down the alley, looking curiously in bins and behind boxes as he spoke.

"Well, those of us who are really strong in magic, we grow even more slowly and we age differently as well. Most people don't know about this or even pay attention. They just think random people are late bloomers or that someone ages well, they rarely even notice that the same people usually do both. I can see how they miss it. There're lots of years between 9 and 90 and not a lot of the same people around at both ages. If someone does notice something, well, they usually only see the one person and don't see the pattern tied to when they were a child, they just see the link between being a strong wizard and aging well."

"So, it's real, but nobody notices?" Harry thought that was strange, someone must notice. He wasn't sure yet if he believed him or if he was just having him on.

The blond made eye contact, nodded, and then continued looking about.

"You'd think they would, wouldn't you; but they don't somehow. Or, if they do, they keep it quiet like we do. My father says it's because there aren't often ones like me where it's so extreme and again, most people only notice the children they know and that's too small a group. I'm the smallest in our records for over 400 years and you're even smaller than me. Most of the kids in the records are just slight or a little on the small side, nothing like us. Plus, wizards don't grow into their full magical strength until after we've hit our full physical growth. So it's not obvious during school when there are lots of kids in one place to compare against."

He turned back to Harry and raised his hands. "By the time someone's getting extra strong, they're either at home on the family estate, off on an apprenticeship or a dull ministry desk job and nobody really thinks twice about things because they're not comparing their magic like at school. Besides, you'd have to keep records over generations with lots of different people to see the pattern, and nobody but my family ever did, that I know of. We've been recording since before Hogwarts was built and have records on thousands of people, not only our family. Then, just to muck things up, you've also got those people who are small because their small and that's just how they are; it's nothing to do with magic, they'd be small even if they were muggles. So it's not a hard rule that every small child becomes powerful."

Harry thought about it and decided he could see how most people missed it. "But how do you know then that we'll be powerful? We could just be small."

"Nope, we're too small. In the book, when it's like you said, those kids are just a bit on the small side or their family commonly grows that way. We're too much on the small side. I bet your parents were normal size as kids, right?"

Harry nodded. "As far as I know. My Aunt says they were and that it's odd that I'm so small."

"There you have it then. You're family doesn't run to runts, your magical and extremely small. You're just like me." The boy had a happy smile on his face as he said this.

Harry was stunned. Nobody had ever told him he was like them and sounded happy about it, he barely paid attention to what was said next.

"You should see my father around his friends. He has the hardest time keeping his face straight when they're boasting about how big their sons are getting, especially when they talk about how small I am. He comes home saying that they're big physically, but will likely end up almost squibs in magic and how it makes him laugh to hear their fathers boasting about it. He has to hold his tongue now, but he says he's building up a store of comments to use once I'm older and it becomes obvious how much more power I have than them. He said it's too bad it won't show until I'm almost through school, but it's probably better that everyone doesn't know the details of my abilities."

"So we're going to be really strong compared to everyone else." Harry felt a bit dazed. He'd just learned that there really was a Wizarding world and he wasn't a freak; but now it seemed he was going to end up being a really powerful wizard. Once again, not normal. He wondered if there were magical people who called strong wizards 'freaks'?

"Yes, eventually." Harry paled until he realized the boy was responding to what he said, not what he was thinking. He started paying attention again.

"Remember, it won't be until we're all done growing up. You and I will likely be the strongest wizards in centuries." He looked at Harry sideways and let out an exaggerated sigh. "It's going to be nice not to have to do all that studying alone."

"What studying?"

The boy smiled smugly. "All that extra studying my father says I'll have to do when I'm older. He says I'll be able to do things other people won't, so I have to do extra work learning everything and how to control it all." His smile turned into a devilish grin. "And now I don't have to do it alone. You'll have to study with me!"

Harry's jaw dropped and he sputtered "But…. But…"

"Nope, too late now, we've met. You're going to be my study partner and we'll help each other. It won't be so bad with both of us working together, really. I'm glad not to be alone anymore." He looked directly at Harry, and Harry finally saw the entreaty in his eyes behind the boastful words and command. Somehow he knew the other boy rarely said please, and that this was as close to begging as he'd ever come. _Besides, if I am going to be strong magically, I will have to learn how to control it and how to use it all. His plan to work together makes sense_.

"Alright. I will." Once again, Harry stuck his hand out. The boy immediately grabbed on and shook with a relieved look in his eyes.

"Deal. We'll be in this together." After dropping Harry's hand, he looked around. "What should we do first? I snuck out early so I've got an hour and a half before I'm supposed to meet my father at Madame Malkins to get my new cloak."

Harry thought for a few seconds. "I think we should split the time between the two worlds and we should start out here since we both need to end up in there -- me at Gringotts and you with your father. What do you want to see?"

He looked at Harry, wide eyed. "I don't know. What is there?"

"Lots." Harry took off his costume. "First we have to look regular and not wizard. I can see trousers, but what kind of shirt do you have if you take off that drapey, half, over thing, er, robe?" Harry blushed at the trouble he was having with the unfamiliar terms. He vowed to himself to practice speaking wizard.

Luckily the other boy didn't laugh, he seemed to take Harry's difficulties as a sign that his clothes made him look odd here on the muggle side. He gazed worriedly at Harry while he unbuttoned his robe and shrugged it off his shoulders. "Will this shirt work? Will people stare?"

"It should be fine. I've not seen anything like it, but it looks nice and not too different. Nobody will stare for bad reasons. They may look at it because they like it and it's a new style, but they won't laugh." Harry realized that the boy was just as worried about his clothes in the muggle world as Harry was about a decent robe in the Wizarding one. It made him feel much more comfortable.

Harry then took the opportunity to pass along all his hard won London knowledge. The boys hunkered down as he passed over the guidebook and explained about public libraries, maps and tourists and then spread the maps out on the cement. The other boy flipped through the book, then stopped and stared at a picture of the Tower of London and asked if they could go there. Harry realized his mistake, and explained that they probably didn't have time to go anywhere in the book and maybe they should just look about this street. The blond boy gazed longingly at the pictures, maps and diagrams of the Tower complex in the guidebook.

"Could we go there another day? Do you live near here? I could sneak out sometimes and we can go all the places in this book. I never knew there was so much here, I want one of these. Do they sell books like this in shops or are they only in libraries?"

"I live over an hour away on the train." Harry flipped to the back of the book and showed the pictures of train stations and local intercity trains. "I could probably come back, but I'm afraid to ride the Underground alone to get here from the station. It was like a maze, I know I'd get lost by myself. I need someone to come along like today…" He bit his lip and wondered if Bran would be willing to meet him. He completely missed the other boy's surprised expression at the ease with which Harry admitted his fear.

Harry perked up. "I've got an idea. Do you have any muggle money?" His new friend shook his head. "What about wizard money, galleons and sickles?"

At this, he nodded yes and dug in his robe.

"We don't need it yet. How about if I lend you muggle money to buy a guidebook, and you lend me wizard money inside, only if I need some before I get to Gringotts. There's a bookstore right over there and my friends are waiting there for me because they don't know about wizards and all. Maybe we can talk Bran into helping me with the Tube again next week and coming with us. We should have someone older come along because otherwise, people will think we're lost and they'll try to give us to the police. That happened to me last time; we look too small to be out alone. You can pay me back for the book once we get to Gringotts and you change some money."

Grin stretching from ear to ear, the other agreed to their new plan and they began packing everything back up. "That's perfect. Let's go look in some shop windows before we buy the book alright? You can tell me about the stuff we pass, especially the machines in the street that people ride in and how people do things without magic."

"You mean cars?"

"Is that what they're called? Yes, tell me everything. I heard muggles don't have owls…" The two set off down the street, robes folded over their arms, shoulders bumping as they whispered back and forth, never even realizing that they hadn't exchanged names.

Halfway along the next block -- several shop windows and a postbox later -- Harry remembered his promise to Bran and Sophie. After listening to his slow explanation, his new friend agreed that promises were important; but then thought about it for a moment.

"You said 'when I'm done, when I come out' didn't you?" This said with a sly look on his face.

Harry nodded.

"Well, technically you aren't done yet. You haven't even gone in the pub so you haven't actually even started, let alone left the pub. Since you haven't started, your promise hasn't started."

Harry was startled as he thought about this. He liked the idea, it was technically correct. It would have been perfect for Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon; but, this was Bran…. unnhh.

"If it was anyone else but Bran, I'd say yes because it does work. But I want Bran to trust me and be my friend; I don't want him to think I'd cheat him if he sees us. I made the promise that way so it would cover being in Diagon Alley, it wasn't supposed to cover out here. This is exactly what Miss Matson didn't want me to do."

The other boy's face fell. "Yea, I guess it is cheating. Especially since you've remembered and now we know. Alright then, let's go to the bookstore. I've already seen a lot and you've explained bunches more so this is fine, really. I've never been in a muggle shop and this way we get to go inside and look around. Since we're buying something, nobody will kick us out."

The boys turned and headed back, feeling lighter. One for keeping his promise, the other excited to actually buy something in a muggle shop with muggle money; although he'd have to hide it at home. He was also glad to know his new friend took his word seriously. If he wouldn't cheat this Bran fellow, then he wouldn't cheat him and that would make this boy unique among his acquaintance.

ooOoooOoooOooo

The boys were completely unaware that they had already been observed. For the last several minutes, Bran had been pacing up and down an aisle in the bookstore, swearing under his breath. All Sophie could make out was an occasional mumbled "Of all the boys in all the world, he has to meet THAT one… and of course, he has to try and make friends with the brat…"

She thought he'd been acting oddly ever since they entered the shop. He'd told her to go browse while he made a private call. Then he'd planted himself with his mobile to his ear where he could look out the window, but wouldn't be seen by Harry. His conversation had initially involved a lot of arm waving, and a glare in her direction, but had then settled down. He'd become extremely agitated once Harry came out of the alley with the other boy and they began walking down the street, away from the Tube station, and looking in windows. So agitated, that he simply wasn't able to stand by the window any longer and he'd taken to pacing, after instructing her to keep an eye on the two.

She couldn't see why he was upset. It was completely possible that Harry was walking along with this boy to his planned destination. It wasn't as if he'd taken up with a strange adult; this was just a boy around Harry's size and age. She couldn't see anything in his appearance to justify this reaction. He was dressed nicely, in an odd style, but didn't look dangerous in any way. He actually looked rather upper-crusty polite, not a street child leading Harry into trouble. Bran was behaving as if Harry hadn't gone where he was supposed to, but how could that be? They didn't know exactly which shop was Harry's destination, so how could he think something was off? Things weren't adding up, and Sophie had always prided herself on having good street smarts. The only logical reason he could be upset at the direction the boys were walking, would be if he knew the direction Harry should be walking. That meant he knew where Harry was going, but he'd been pretending differently to her.

The next question to ponder was if Harry was aware that Bran knew. It was completely possible that he shared this information during his first trip or while she was getting drinks. Sophie felt a little hurt at the idea that Harry may trust Bran more than her. After all, she'd known him since he started school. She was the one who helped him with math and other school questions. After a few moments of pouting, she realized that it may not be trust, but simply that she was more a part of his real life than Bran. If he was doing something that he didn't want to get back to anyone in Little Whinging, or something that may not be a good idea; it made sense that he would tell a stranger over someone who was a part of his real life, especially someone he saw as an authority figure. No matter how comfortable Harry was with the man, Bran wasn't part of his life on a day to day basis, nor was Bran likely to ever interact with his family. But then again, maybe Harry hadn't told Bran. She shouldn't assume things. The last option meant that somehow Bran knew things about Harry that the child was unaware of, and suddenly Sophie felt a lot less comfortable with Harry's meeting and the whole situation.

She looked up and realized the boys had changed direction, crossed the street and they were now walking back towards the bookshop. Bran was still pacing. She sighed and decided that Harry didn't need to hear his mumblings. As she walked over, his low voice gradually became audible.

"They must not have introduced themselves, young boys rarely think of these things and they couldn't have, because he would have gone running for his blasted father, the last thing they'd be doing is browsing chummily around shop windows… Why couldn't this have happened on the way out instead of the way in…what the devil is that brat even doing out here alone in the first place…"

Well, that answered some of her questions. Obviously, the boy's family was known to Bran and it wasn't positive. Sophie began to wonder if she should just grab Harry and go back to Little Whinging. The situation was not what it had seemed. They could stay and she could try to watch out for, well, something. The problem was that she didn't know what she was watching for. All she could think of would be to see if the boy knew Bran as well, and then try to get a feel for either 'grab and run' or 'stay and hope it turns out well'. She knew 'grab and run' would involve arguments with both Harry and Bran.

Sophie sighed as she approached Bran. She decided to look on this boy's presence as a positive. He was obviously outside of whatever plan Bran had going, and after all, just because Bran didn't like the boy's family didn't mean there was anything wrong with the boy himself. She didn't have to look any further than Harry and his family for an example of that situation. Sophie took the last few steps and tapped Bran on the shoulder.

"They're coming back here to the bookshop. You may want to stop grumbling and pacing before Harry shows up and thinks you've gone mental." She gave him a smug half smile and crossed her arms.

If anything, this seemed to bother him more. He grabbed her arm, pulled her close and whispered fervently.

"Sophie, I can't explain this fully right now, but it is critical that you do exactly as I tell you… extremely critical for Harry's safety, his very life. You must NOT use his name while we are here and especially not in front of this boy; you must not ask for any introductions to this other boy nor lead the conversation in any direction that would require names or introductions. You must not ask or talk about family or where you and Harry live, most especially do not talk about where the two of you live or your school."

He paused and ran a hand distractedly over his face.

"You're not making any sense Bran. Why…"

He cut her off. "We don't have time for the whys; just do it if you care for him at all. It would be best if you stayed silent and let me handle this. You don't know the situation or the risks. Ask absolutely NO questions of either of them! Do you understand?"

She responded to the desperation in his eyes and voice and agreed, although inside she began fuming. The 'run' option was sounding better and better.

"Alright. I won't question either of the boys, but you have to give me one good reason why I shouldn't just grab Harry now and take him home. Especially given what you've just said. I'm not liking what I'm seeing and hearing. If he isn't safe, then I should take him home."

Bran's eyes widened and he grabbed her elbow again. "That would be the worst thing you could possibly do. He needs to have this meeting. There are things he needs to understand..." He paused and glanced at the door, making sure the boys hadn't arrived. "I can promise you that he will be much safer once he has his meeting. I'll explain more after they leave, but there just isn't time now. I would never hurt him or allow someone else to do so. I swear it!" He vowed softly.

She stared at his eyes, trying to see if she could trust him. She didn't understand what was going on and it was extremely frustrating. He seemed sincere and her gut said to wait; but oh…once the boys were gone, she'd get her answers. He'd better have a damned good reason for pulling the safety card and making it sound like a life and death situation. She also decided that this meant option two was correct. Bran knew things about Harry that he shouldn't on such a short acquaintance, he knew things that Harry himself didn't know. Bran wasn't just a random nice man who helped Harry out last summer. If his explanations weren't good enough, she would go find Harry and take him straight home. This was definitely not a simple trip to London to chat with some old friends of Harry's parents; people who were on the outs with his Aunt.

The boys came into the store and Harry made a beeline for Bran, the other boy following in his wake. Sophie noticed a woman walking behind them who was sending frantic looks Bran's way. The woman kept gazing back and forth between the children and Bran, seemingly close to hyperventilating. Sophie's suspicious mind began churning again. Obviously he had someone else watching Harry. No wonder he was so calm in the alley about leaving him alone in the street -- Harry hadn't really been alone! The rat should have told her so she could have relaxed. She wouldn't have been angry he tricked Harry into thinking he was alone when all along he had someone the boy didn't know staying close. She wished she'd thought of it and called one of her London friends last night. But then again, adding this to Bran's earlier behavior and comments made Sophie even more nervous about Harry walking around without her. Who were these people? Then the thought crossed her mind -- who was Harry to warrant all this?

While she'd been thinking, the boys pulled Bran aside into a huddle and he was giving her a keep away look. Although she'd decided to go along for the moment, that didn't mean she was going to make it easy for him. She sidled a bit closer so she could eavesdrop and watch their faces. So far, the other boy showed no signs of recognition as he gazed upward at Bran, just some vague curiosity and discomfort. Oddly, that made her feel better. At least Harry would have someone with him who wasn't part of Bran's merry band. The more irritation Bran showed toward the boy while Harry rambled, the more Sophie smiled while listening to his young voice.

"Bran?" Harry piped earnestly, shifting from foot to foot. "Could you maybe meet me again next Saturday? And maybe spend the day with us? We want to go to the Tower of London and maybe some other places, but if we go alone people will bother us. I don't want to ride the Tube alone either. Would you have time next weekend? You can even bring a friend if you want. It wouldn't cost you anything; we can pay for your tickets. Please!" Harry finally stopped and twisted his hands, waiting.

Two sets of boyish eyes looked pleadingly up at Bran and he found himself at a complete loss for the first time in years. The last thing he wanted to do was encourage a friendship between these two. No, maybe the last thing he wanted to do was spend leisure time with the other boy… yes, that sounded about right. Next came getting to know the brat and then the brat and Harry's budding friendship. He bit his inner cheek and pasted a pleased smile on his face, reminding himself that he didn't want them to find someone else. If Harry was going to spend the day with this boy in London, for damn sure Bran was going to be with them every step of the way. He took a deep breath and gave the only possible response.

"That sounds like fun, I haven't been to the Tower in ages. Are you sure you both can come back here?" At the two nods, he prayed the Goblins could discourage this and made arrangements he hoped never to carry out. "Right then, let's meet back here in this shop next Saturday. Around 10:30 am should give us all time to get here, bring lunches and then we can picnic along the river or a nice bit of wall at the Tower. Is that alright with everyone?"

Happy nods were exchanged all around.

Bran put a hand on Harry's shoulder, "I'll meet you at the station and we'll travel here together. We'll check the timetables back at the station before you leave today. If your friend can't make it, we two will go no matter what, just us. It would be grand fun and I'll look forward to spending the day with you." He looked at the blond boy and continued somewhat coldly "So if you can't come, don't fret. If you're not here, we'll just assume something came up and you couldn't make it and we'll go on without you."

At first Harry looked crestfallen at the idea of the other boy not being there next weekend, but then he realized Bran wanted to spend a day with him, just them, and his grin threatened to split his face, he was so happy. No adult had ever wanted to spend that much time with him not doing chores, especially to take him somewhere for fun.

The other boy shifted foot to foot with an odd look on his face. It was obvious to him the man didn't want him along, but he really wanted to see the Tower and spend time with his new friend. He'd never felt like an unwanted third wheel in his life and this new feeling was very uncomfortable. He cleared his throat before speaking and again found himself in the unfamiliar territory of pleading.

"Don't leave without me if I'm a little late, alright? I'll contact you on Friday and confirm. If I can't come, I'll tell you then, I promise."

Harry imagined the fuss if an owl arrived during Friday dinner. "But I can't get…"

His friend broke in with a side look at Bran "I know, you already said outside. It will be alright, they won't know, just don't leave if I tell you I'm coming."

Harry nodded and Bran spoke up. "Well then, it's all set." He patted Harry's shoulder and asked if they needed anything else. When they told him about the guidebook, he led the two over to the right section and helped them pick out just the right book. Harry's new friend wanted one with lots of pictures and building diagrams, just like the library book, but the store didn't carry that title. It took a few minutes to find one similar enough to please the child's exacting tastes.

Sophie noticed the other boy seemed to have trouble staying on task. He kept looking around and making odd comments about how many books there were in that section, plus the shop and all the different topic signs. He was especially intrigued by the special children's section along the back wall. It was almost as if he'd never seen one before today.

Once the right book was finally chosen, Harry said he had enough money and dragged the other boy over to the queue at the counter. The two began whispering again, shoulder to shoulder, heads together.

Bran grimaced at the chummy picture they made, nodded to the shaken woman by the door and returned to Sophie. "Not now, Gods, just not now, okay? He hasn't gone inside yet, they're headed there next."

She spoke quietly "You said before that he has to do this by himself. If that's true, then why can this boy go with him and I can't?"

Bran froze. "Well… um…er… he's been inside before, they know him and he won't stick around during the meeting. It…It's like a private club and only people who are known can go all the way inside."

Sophie felt a sudden urge to whack Bran upside the head in the vane hope the truth might fall out, but managed to hold her temper and her tongue. It was hard to decide which made her angrier: the lying or thinking she could fall for such a bad line. The two boys seemed to be the only ones behaving normally. Harry seemed happy, and although she wasn't pleased with all the behind the scenes activity, she decided to wait for the explanation and let Harry continue. She herself was glad to see Harry making a friend, finally. In her opinion, the boy was alone far too much. Even if he did live an hour away by train, it wasn't impossible to have a friendship. She didn't see anything wrong with the child and one distant friend was better than no friend at all. She had firm plans to join in on the Tower expedition next weekend and decide for herself if either of them, boy or man, were suitable to become Harry's friend.

After purchasing the book, the two boys took a quick tour around the store, stopping for a bit in each section to look at books and whisper. Back at their starting point, they picked a spot along the wall near the chairs in the front window. They sat on the floor with their backs against the wall and huddled over the guidebook, pointing and talking quietly together about the Tower and other places they'd like to visit. Harry absentmindedly reached into his satchel and came out with a bag of carrot sticks. The boys began to munch and flip pages while Harry pointed out his favorite places to read and daydream about.

Fifteen minutes later, they rose, waved goodbye to Bran and Sophie then walked back to the service alley. Robes were quickly donned; guidebook package tucked into a deep pocket and the issue of pointy hat or not was resolved. Since Harry's robe costume could be considered old fashioned, he was advised to wear the hat since it also was old fashioned and then he'd just look like someone who's parents liked to dress him in the old style. Harry was adamant about not wearing the hat on the street, so the boys decided that he should quickly put it on as they entered the Pub. They both agreed that they should get through there as fast as possible, before someone noticed they didn't have an adult along.

The next thing Harry knew, he was walking into The Leaky Cauldron, putting on his hat after another nudge, and following his friend rapidly through the room and out the back door. Lucky for them, another man was entering the Alley and they simply followed him, without having to wait or ask someone to open the portal.

On the other side, everything from the diary was there. The shops; people in robes -- a few in pointy hats like his, a couple of owls flying down the street, and even a few of what must be Goblins. Harry had to remind himself to breathe and he grabbed onto his friend's sleeve. As wonderful as it was, it seemed as daunting as the first time he'd seen the big train station. He was thinking how glad he was not to be alone when he was pulled away from the portal and into a side niche.

"It's fantastic, isn't it?" He heard his friend say while he was trying to absorb this new reality. "I try not to show it anymore, but sometimes it still hits me as the most amazing place in the world. There's always something new to look at." The voice turned unsure. "But maybe if you're used to all that stuff out there, this doesn't look all that grand."

Harry shook his head slowly. "Oh no; this is quite grand. I've never seen anything like it."

His friend looked relieved and tugged Harry toward a shop. "Come on. We should check at Madam Malkins to see if my father came early while we were outside. We can pick up my cloak and then I'll show you around the Alley." He caught his breath, looked at Harry and smiled smugly. "I've got an idea…" he drawled as he dragged him into the shop.

A woman bustled up to them. "Hello there, young master Malfoy. You're here to pick up the cloak your mother ordered?"

The boy stood tall and began to exude a proud and formal persona, quite different from how he behaved on the muggle side; even his voice changed and became colder and more remote. "Yes Madam. Is it ready? I know I'm early, but I thought I should check in just in case my father's meeting finished before he anticipated. It wouldn't do to keep him waiting."

"Yes, it's ready and I haven't seen your father yet today." She motioned and a young assistant brought out a grey and green hooded cloak with elaborate black frog closures running half way down, starting below a silver neck clasp. He rubbed a hand down the fabric as they draped it around him to check the fit. He then asked how long it would take to make another, exactly like it for his friend.

Both women looked startled, but responded that it would only take a few minutes as the fabric and special pattern were still in the workroom and they had made extra frogs. They would only need the measurements.

After a quickly whispered "Don't fuss, I'll explain outside." Harry found himself standing on a pedestal being measured. Just like his mum wrote, the tape flew about him on its own and he was soon waiting in a comfy chair for his first piece of wizard clothing, his own cloak.

Harry leant over to his friend and whispered, "I don't have any galleons with me…"

The reply came back "But I do. Think of it like the book." After that, Harry didn't feel he could complain. They could even things up once they got to Gringotts and if he didn't have enough with him or he couldn't get into his mum's vault, well, the money he had at home should cover things.

Very shortly, the cloak was in his hands and the young Malfoy was counting coins out of a moneybag into Madam's hand.

"I'd appreciate it Madam, if this transaction stayed just between us."

She looked at the two boys and shrugged. "Of course Master Draco. I pride myself on my staff's discretion. Gossip does not originate from this shop."

He smiled and added more coins to the stack then turned and ushered Harry out the door.

"What was all that about and why were you behaving like such a prig and, thanks, but why the cloak? It's beautiful and I love it, but I don't understand why?"

Draco pulled them around a corner into an alcove. "Let's put them on and I'll explain." He draped the cloak around his shoulders, fastened the clasp and looked expectantly at Harry, who asked "Won't we be hot?"

"No, they're charmed to be comfortable in all kinds of different weather. Magic, remember?" This caused Harry to laugh and quickly follow his lead. Draco pulled off Harry's pointy hat, saying he didn't need it anymore, and a relieved boy put it away in his satchel as the other explained his change in behavior.

"I have to behave that way in public because it's expected. My father is very important and formal. My parents, and really, the rest of the magical world, expect me to behave this way, so I have to. It's just an act for the public, it's not really me. It's just what I have to do so my father doesn't get angry at me and say I'm not properly behaved for my rank. I didn't have to use the act on the muggle side because nobody over there would know me, or my family. Our rank doesn't mean anything in the muggle world. But here, it would be a real problem if I didn't use the act and someone noticed. With the cloak and hood up, most people won't know who I am, so I won't have to be quite as formal unless someone comes right up to us. It's all just an act…something my father insists on."

Draco shifted nervously, waiting to hear his friend's response, hoping he'd understand. Other people called him pompous and stuck up; he could ignore it from them, but he didn't want his new friend to think that way. He'd finally found someone just like him, magically his equal, and he didn't want to lose him. Best yet, he was from the outside, had no controlling magical family, knew little about the magical world and was therefore safe. It had been wonderful not to have to use the act and just be himself.

Harry watched Draco and thought about what he'd said. He knew all about expectations and behaving differently than your true self. He felt better, knowing he wasn't the only one who had to pretend just to keep others from being angry.

"Alright. That makes sense. I kind of do the same thing at school and around my Uncle. I don't go all stiff and formal, but I have an act too so I don't get in trouble." He shrugged. "As long as it's really an act and you don't do that to me, I don't mind. It'll be fun to watch, knowing it's not real." He smiled and punched his friends arm lightly. "So what's up with the cloaks?"

Draco let out a long relieved breath and returned Harry's smile nervously. "Wizards in clubs or secret societies often wear matching cloaks. We're a lot like a club, we said we'd be in this together, and there isn't anyone else like us. So, I thought we could be a real club, just us, and these can be our club cloaks. Later on we can get special clasps or a crest."

He eagerly monitored Harry's expression and saw that he appeared to like the idea, so he continued in a burst. "It came to me when I saw the shop. The cloak is grey and green. Like us, I have grey eyes and you have green, they match us!"

Harry was thrilled by the idea. "I read some books with secret clubs. They had handshakes, and secret code words, and phrases and everything. Can we do that?"

"We can do anything we want, it's our club." Both boys began to bounce a little on the balls of their feet in excitement.

"Then I know what our secret code phrase should be between each other. I say 'Grey and Green' and you say back 'Green and Grey'. We always start with the other's color."

"Yes! I like that. We can even work the colors into normal conversations and nobody will have any idea what we're talking about. It's perfect!" Draco put his hand out "Green and Grey". Harry clasped it in his and responded "Grey and Green", and a partnership was formed to last their lifetimes, if the knowledge of Harry's name and their family history didn't blow it to pieces.

They turned as one and stepped back out into the Alley. Draco flipped his hood up and nodded to Harry, "Hoods up." Harry mimicked the action and voiced the idea that had been burning in him ever since Miss Matson made the appointment for London. "Can we go to the Quidditch shop and look at brooms?"

EOC

Revised March 10, 2008

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**A/N:**

I know that my choice of the other boy will make some happy and irritate others. When I had originally envisioned this story - the secondary concept was always going to be a friendship between two boys. One that nobody else wanted to exist and people would want to interfere. Obviously, I couldn't choose someone like Neville or even Blaise Z because, let's face it, neither of those would be controversial enough. People would be happy about he and Neville and nobody would care beyond a first level "huh, well…" if it was Blaise, or even early canon Theo Nott. I needed someone that every character in the story would have a gut reaction of 'absolutely not…'. A side benefit would be if he also brought some interesting characters with him… ;-) Let's face it, choosing Draco means I get to have some fun scenes at home with the Malfoy family. Also, I took into consideration that I've enough OC's wandering around, I'd rather not have to create an entire family for the 'other home' scenes and have more new characters for everyone to try and keep straight.

For those who say his canon character is too snotty to ever go into the muggle world, remember he's only 8 here. At this age, anyone would still be curious. That mask wouldn't be set yet and would be very susceptible to staying a mask vs becoming the partial canon reality seen at age 11. I could SO see Draco sneaking out to have a look-see at the muggle world all by himself, especially against orders. He's spoiled and arrogant enough to think he could get away with it and that nothing would happen to him, plus I doubt his parents are the hands on type to know where he is every moment of the day. In my head, the high society magical world is just like the British aristocracy of the 1700 - 1800's. this seems to match a lot of the hints we get from canon; the whole estate, no profession for Mr. Malfoy and the walking cane bit, plus, Narcissa is very much a woman who 'lunches', and has an 'at home' day, pays afternoon calls and does charity work. In this world, children were quite often raised by the nanny and visited once a day by the parents until they became older and were ready for instruction in taking on their own role. Easy to sneak out and have a life unknown by his parents, especially if the nanny is a house elf who must obey.

I also like the fun of watching all Draco's preconceptions be blown to bits by an early meeting w/ Harry and spending time in the muggle world. Another consideration was that early canon Draco quite obviously was trying to act like his father and he was easily flustered out of his pretense of poise and arrogance. That initial characterization makes him interesting to work with and shows that his behavior is mostly a mask or act. This is simply my idea of behind the mask.

For the others who are worried about slash - I do read some slash as you can see on my fav list, but this is NOT a Draco / Harry slash story. Their relationship in this story will stay a friendship. I think that will be interesting enough to explore while they work on becoming teens and men.


	12. Chpt 12: London Revelations

**DISCLAIMER**: JKR ownes all Harry Potter characters and canon storyline. If you recognize it, its not mine.

**A/N:** Yes, surprise, surprise -- It's an update!!

It won't shock anyone to hear I'm still having writing issues, but at least there's been some movement. Like last time, I have issues with some sections in this chapter. I'll continue editing and cleaning it up as I did with Chapter 11 but I really wanted to get this out by the weekend. Hopefully I've not left anything glaringly bad. It turned out a lot longer than normal.

I've purposefully written Draco to sound older than Harry. I feel that the Malfoy's would have little patience with childish phrasing and language; therefore he would speak in a more mature speech pattern, unless he's flustered.

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**Chapter 12 - London Revelations**

The moment the boys left, Sophie closed in on Bran, determination in her eyes. She was thwarted by his instantly making a call on his mobile and moving back to his corner by the window and motioning her away. She only heard a bit of his conversation and it confused her even more.

"… are you sure there's been no sign of Malfoy senior in the alley? I don't care what it might blow, we can't let that man get anywhere near him… you may think he won't try anything so public, I'm not so sure…. Well, our little unplanned guest messed that up…. The only way to keep her out was to send him in alone… I had no choice…it may work in our benefit for now…"

She moved away until he hung up and then stepped in front of him. "The boys are gone. No more excuses."

He glared at her tiredly. "Give me a couple more minutes, I need to think how best to say this…"

"No, you'll just come up with a really good lie. I think I want your unpolished explanation, while you're still a bit muddled."

"Devious wench…"

"Extremely. I specialize in devious with a side of stubborn." She replied carefully. "Stop delaying and start talking. I'm calm now, but I can't guarantee that will last, you should take advantage of it. My family always said I should have been a redhead."

"What colour is your hair under that anyway?"

"Braannn…" the warning clear in her tone.

Bran looked around the room, but finding no help coming his way, he cleared his throat. "Well, it's pretty much like I said before; the boys will go to the shop, into the club section you know, where they'll likely separate. I'm sure the other boy's mother is inside somewhere, so he'll go find her and Harry will go on to his meeting."

He paused; the look on her face was quite strange. She seemed to be getting very annoyed. Was her cheek twitching?

"It'll take awhile. I believe there is a lot of family business to go over. He'll come back here when done and we'll all head home. Nothing much on our side to do but wait so --"

Sophie suddenly broke in. "I didn't buy it then and I'm not buying it now. That private club bit was a lie -- a very bad one and you have truly obvious tells. Don't mistake my looks to mean I'm a silly goth girl without a brain in her head. I graduated top of my class from Cambridge and I'm currently taking my time in earning my masters. Do you have any clue what is required to be at the top in my field of study? I am an expert at research and anticipating my clients future needs. That means I have to be able to understand how people think, read between the lines, and know where various trains of thought and research are heading. By any chance, is this triggering anything for you?"

She smiled smugly at him and crossed her arms. "A top rank research librarian has to know a great deal about many different fields of study in order to find the best articles, journals and books for the client. After all, you can't recommend something if you've never understood how it might tie in with their current research. Really Bran…someone like me has the best all around education in the British Isles and is trained to be a detail oriented creative thinker. Ponder that concept for a moment before you try to fool me again. I don't have my current job because I wasn't able to get anything else; I still receive recruiting calls on a regular basis. I work at a primary school because I like children. It's undemanding and gives me time for my own work to finish my masters slowly and to play for a few years without that dreaded gap in ones history. It also has the added side benefit of irritating my priggish father, which I know is not a mature attitude, but it IS still a great deal of fun. Especially since the position falls in with the plans I made years ago and driving him round the bend is simply a marvelous, unexpected perk. You really should have thought about how my CV must be something special for a conservative suburban school to hire someone with my outward appearance."

She stood there, settled back on her hips with one leg resting forward, arms crossed and fingers drumming just above her elbows and fielding one of the sharpest gazes he'd ever come across. Suddenly Bran realized he was feeling terribly intimidated by this slip of a girl. No, not girl, woman. That had been his mistake. He'd thought of her as just a girl and taken her surface outward appearance as a measure of her worth. He'd messed up bad. This woman was quick minded, VERY intelligent and very fierce. It was all there in her eyes really, he just hadn't looked. Merlin in a mousetrap… If she'd graduated from Cambridge at the top, she was likely much smarter than he was, definitely better educated…She could think rings around him…He was screwed. That's all there was to it. _I'm so fed_ kept repeating in his mind on some kind of endless loop while he stared at her, the proverbial deer in headlamps syndrome alive and well.

After some of the longest moments in Bran's life, a low bark of laughter had both Sophie and Bran turning to look at the well-dressed older gentleman standing near them. Bran's face instantly cleared and filled with relief.

"Looks like you've gotten yourself in a bit of a pickle here, Bran." With a wry glance at the young man, he stepped forward and held his hand out to Sophie. "Hello, I'm Gerald."

"I'm Sophie Matson." She stressed her last name. She was getting tired of not knowing last names and couldn't help but think it was on purpose. "How did you come to know Bran? Are you a member of his merry band following small boys around?"

"You get right to the point, don't you?" Gerald cocked an eyebrow and turned his head to look at Bran. The young man was looking noticeably flustered and a bit helpless around the eyes. Gerald managed to hold in his laugh. This woman might be just the thing to bring the arrogant man to his knees, and he'd enjoy watching every second of the fun.

"Yes, well, I've only allotted so much time for Mr. Bad Excuses / Obvious Liar here to convince me before I find my pupil and scurry home where he'll be safe." Sophie began to tap her forward foot in addition to the finger drumming.

Gerald couldn't hold it in that time, and leant down, covering his mouth in an attempt to hide his laughing snorts behind a cough. Bran came to attention, highly insulted.

"Hey! I'll have you know I come up with excellent excuses and I'm a very good liar!" Bran blustered.

Sophie shook her head and faced Gerald. "He really believes that?"

The older man smiled at her. "Sadly enough, he really does. We've tried to break him of that delusion, but he was spoiled as a child and his teachers enjoyed the drama and inventiveness, so they never called him on it and now we suffer."

Bran sputtered, threw up his hands, turned his back and began pacing again. Although she couldn't hear it, Sophie was sure he was muttering. She wanted to laugh. He was now behaving like a small boy Harry's age caught out in a fib, not the mature take-charge man of earlier.

"Well, it's obvious he's not going to say much, so you must be here to explain or put me off. I'll give you a hint. I'm not easily put off, much like young Harry, so it's best if you choose the explanation option. For starters, I want to know who you people are and what you're interest is in that child, and what has been going on here." Sophie trained her 'guaranteed-to-make-young-men-in-clubs-quaver' gaze on Gerald.

He was a bit startled by the intensity, and better understood Bran's state. He thought her stare might just be as good as his. "You'll have to forgive him." He nodded toward the still pacing Bran. "He's not normally like this, he's just a little nervous and worried about the other boy being with our lad. Give me a moment to calm him and I will address your concerns." He moved over to Bran and spoke surprisingly harshly and very firmly.

"You need to get a hold of yourself. You're backsliding. Severely. Control you're emotions before they control you and you do or say something stupid. Now, Bran. Stop and gain control NOW. You need to be thinking today, not reacting emotionally, there's too much at stake and I need you at your best. He deserves your best."

The two men stood glaring at one another, before the younger finally broke eye contact, nodded, and took a deep breath, standing still while Gerald returned to Sophie.

"Har-" Gerald cut her off mid-word.

"You need to stop using his name, I know Bran warned you. Call him the lad or our lad." His rebuke was soft, but firm. Sophie blushed. She hated being caught out.

"He's gone somewhere more…open…than just a shop, hasn't he? Do you still have someone following him and are they responsible? Is he really safe right now, including from you all?"

She knew he was going to claim Harry was safe, but she wanted to watch his eyes and face while he did so. It was going to be all she had to go on.

He nodded to her "Yes, it's not just a shop and he's being watched. We'll monitor him without his ever knowing. We'll keep him safe."

He seemed sincere to Sophie, but--

"WHAT?" Bran stormed over. After being shushed, he continued in a quieter voice, but no less fervent. "Why are you telling her anything! She'll be like a dog with a bone. She won't let it go. She'll keep asking and asking and could cause everything to blow up in our faces. It would be much better if she were oblivious to the situation." He very carefully emphasized certain words in that last sentence, then gave a significant look with a small hand gesture.

Gerald shook his head. "Bran, this doesn't look like control." Bran humphed, Sophie rolled her eyes and Gerald began to smile. These two were going to be fun. Once the younger man calmed, he continued.

"A thinking man knows much better than to get between a fiery woman and a child she's claimed. Think mother bears and their cubs. Do you understand or is this one of those lessons young men need to learn the hard way?" He waved his hand up and down at Sophie. "Are you missing all this here? She has mother bear all over her; it's very obvious to me."

Bran, still backsliding, opened his mouth and inserted his foot. "I just don't think it applies in this case. She's only his school librarian with an overly inflated sense of responsibiliy. She has no personal interest or relationship with the lad."

Sophie's foot began to tap again as he spoke and Bran winced when he noticed her cheek twitch violently. He barely heard Gerald's muttered "I should have known he'd choose the hard way…" before a furious Sophie interjected.

"She is standing right here…"

Head shaking, her own mouth got ahead of her brain. Somehow, this man seemed to bring out the worst in her temper, she knew full well she should be keeping her mouth shut and making them do the talking. Seemingly unable to stop herself, Sophie joined the foot in mouth club.

"My, you really are an arrogant arse aren't you? You are so positive about this after your two meetings with the child? Let's see, all of two meetings - one of which was today - compared to my two, going on three, years of knowing and working with the child. How dare you say there is no relationship between us! I have a place in his daily life."

Sophie began emphasizing her words with periodic pokes into Bran's chest with her finger, pushing the startled man back each time.

"I'm one of the two adults he voluntarily spends time with and that he comes to with questions. I'm the one who, for the last two years, has tried to time her breaks to coincide with his class breaks so I can keep an eye on him and stop his bullying cousin from pummeling him for the few minutes I have to spend. I'm the person with a desk drawer full of brochures on top ranked boarding schools with scholarship programs and the requirements for application. I'm someone he actually lets see pieces of the real boy instead of the various masks he shows the world. I'm actually capable of recognizing the mask vs the boy….are you?"

Sophie's arms went back to crossed while Bran stood there rubbing his chest and wondering where he went wrong. Before he could react, Gerald beat him to it. Leaning forward, the older man began to query Sophie.

"You're trying to get him into a boarding school?"

"Yes, he has a good mind and deserves a better environment." She wished she hadn't lost her head and said so much, but at least she could keep quiet about his home life. Let them assume she was talking about school.

Gerald's gaze was thoughtful. "His grades aren't that good, definitely nothing scholarship worthy for the better schools."

Sophie smiled smugly. "I'll want to know later how you have his grades, but this is a perfect example of how you see the mask while I know the real boy. "

She paused, making sure both men were in her sights. "He fakes his grades."

Gerald rocked back on his heels, eyes wide as he stared at her in astonishment. Bran was simply speechless. He looked as if he didn't want to believe her, but something in his eyes showed he did.

"Are you positive?" Gerald demanded.

"Of course I am, he even admitted as much to me last week. He came to me last year asking about how scores on tests and homework were calculated. I gave a basic simple answer about how percentages are a number that shows the amount of right answers out of total questions."

Sophie couldn't resist glancing over at Bran as she laughed softly. "You called me a dog with a bone, well, that's Ha…the lad to a tee when he wants to know something. Nothing would suffice but that I also teach him multiplication and division for percentages, all of which he picked up in a single afternoon with little difficulty. At the time, he was only seven and still pretending to have issues with addition and subtraction in class. There's no doubt in my mind his current and last years grades are totally faked using the math I explained that day."

"Why would he do such a thing?"

She looked at Bran and again decided not to say anything about Harry's home life. "It obviously suits his purposes to do so. He's told me he plans to do better this year and better still the next, but he isn't planning to work at his full capacity any time soon."

Gerald raised his gaze to the ceiling, hands in pockets. He was obviously thinking through what she had said and reviewing all the implications.

Bran's body language had completely changed. He seemed fairly subdued and very interested in his footwear. After a moment, he raised his head, cleared his throat and asked quietly.

"What's he like when he's being stubborn? A dog with a bone…I can't quite see him yelling and stomping to get his way, but sulks don't seem right either."

She couldn't suppress a giggle at the picture of Harry behaving in such a manner. "Oh, no, that's not him at all. He's very polite and calm. He'll come at you and the question twenty different ways if he has to, but he won't stop until he has a full answer. He's impossible to distract when you think it's inappropriate or too difficult. No matter how many times you try to put him off or change the topic, he'll keep coming back. Just when you think you've successfully moved him onto something else, he'll turn around and say 'well, that was interesting, now about my question…' and he'll keep asking until he understands completely to his own personal satisfaction."

She laughed a little in remembrance of the few times she'd attempted to redirect him.

"He's incredibly adept at going around adults and their imposed limitations. He'll smile and nod as if he agrees with you, and then he'll just blithely continue on his own path out of your sight. I think that's partly why I adore him so much. He doesn't confront but he gets his information in the end, and generally without the knowledge of the person who tried to blockade him. He runs rings around Mrs. Browne, the head librarian, and she hasn't a clue. That's why I came with him today, instead of trying to stop him. I knew if I interfered he'd just come some day nobody was looking. He'd gotten it into his head that he should come here, so come here he would, no matter what. My only choices were between letting him continue on his own or to try and insert myself into his plans. Obviously to keep him safe I had to choose the latter."

They chuckled a bit together, animosity forgotten in their mutual affection and humor over Harry and his stubborn ways.

Gerald had come back to earth while Sophie was talking and he had his own questions.

"You work for the school, a child wasn't learning and you didn't interfere?"

"I never said he wasn't learning; he's just faking his tests and homework to get specific marks. He's been learning on his own at his own pace. He's way above his current form. Based on the questions he's been asking me, he's working out of the books from a couple of years ahead and moving right along. He's been learning the material, just not letting any other adults in on the secret of when that learning occurred."

Both men thought about that for a few moments. "How were you going to get past this for the school applications?"

"That's none of your concern right now…I've been doing all the talking; now it's your turn. I've given my bona fides to prove my relationship with the child -- not that strangers such as you had any right to them -- but now it's time for you to prove yours to me. Remember, you are the strangers here, the outsiders. I'm with Har-the lad, you're not. I have the legitimate role here, not you.

Bran growled and stepped forward, Gerald stopped him with a hand on his arm as Sophie continued.

"You've been all arrogant and secretive because you hold the cards about whatever is happening today and where or whom he's visiting. But you need to remember that I hold all the other cards. Your lead lasts only until he comes back here, because then, I'm the one he'll listen to over you. No matter how much he likes you Bran, your two meetings simply do not compare to two years of trust and friendship. Not to mention, if this meeting he's having… 'enlightens' him in some way, he's likely to suspect your oh so convenient appearance in his life."

She smiled at them, and it wasn't exactly pleasant. "Now you need to tell me why I should trust either of you or the people you have monitoring my little friend. He matters to me, I'm not going to let this go, or be sidetracked. You seem to know things about that child that a stranger wouldn't, things that even he may not know. Bran here has been acting extremely odd, especially about that other boy, and most importantly, he pulled the safety card. I want to know what's going on, what you know and how you know it. Don't forget to include who all of you are and why you're so interested in one small boy. As unique and special as I may think him, he is just a boy from an average family. If he isn't, then I expect full disclosure on who he is to warrant all this attention and fuss."

"And why should we trust you?"

"Haven't we covered that already? Whatever you may know of him, you don't know him, not as I do. I'm on his side - I'm with him and you're not, basically."

Gerald and Bran looked at each other. Bran made a hand movement with a pleading expression. "Your specialty?"

The other man looked at her, considering, then turned back to Bran. "I don't think we should."

"Oh yes, we should. Much better in the long run. Please?"

Gerald shook his head no. "We should tell her. She knows things we don't; she's close to him, on the inside. She could be a help to us. We've never had anyone this close to him before, especially someone who will continue to be close and whom he'll see as outside all of this."

"Nooooo". Bran groaned softly, obviously not really thinking he had any chance of changing the other man's mind.

Gerald smiled and slapped Bran's shoulder. "Chin up, old boy. It'll be right, you'll see." He then turned to Sophie. Taking her by the arm, he turned her towards the door.

"Let me offer you a cup of tea and a chat. We'll be notified before the lad returns here, but just in case, Bran'll stay behind to watch. Alright? This isn't something we can talk about here."

Sophie nodded and followed Gerald towards the shop exit, leaving a sulking Bran behind. When they reached the doors, Sophie turned back, a slightly wicked expression on her face.

"Bran? In answer to your earlier question…black, it's black as night." She turned swiftly and walked out the door Gerald held open. He burst out laughing, gave Bran an amused glance and followed her to the street.

oooOoooOoooOooo

That Saturday morning, Dudley was having a déjà vu moment. His mum was making him clean his second bedroom again, only this time she wanted him to mainly focus on throwing things away that he hadn't used in a year and he had to move at least 20 other things back into his main bedroom -- for good. He couldn't move them back nor move anything else into this extra room. Having learned his lesson last time, he stepped quickly through the room creating piles in the hallway. It only took an hour and a half of dedicated work until his piles were large enough to suit his mother and then he was quickly out the door and over to Piers, vowing to get out of the house faster next Saturday before she could give him another big chore. He was sick of cleaning his second bedroom and began to wonder if it was worth the hassle. Having two bedrooms sounded nice, but having to keep both tidy and clean wasn't.

While reading the morning paper, Vernon couldn't help but hear his son's complaints about not being able to move things into his second bedroom any longer. He went upstairs and watched Dudley work on his piles for a few moments before retreating back downstairs to his chair in the lounge. Petunia was up to something, he was certain of it.

oooOoooOoooOooo

While Sophie was arguing and having her mind blown, Harry was having the time of his life. Reading his mum's opinions about Quidditch was nothing like seeing moving posters of real games with players whizzing about in the air. The boys handled brooms and discussed which one was better; tossed a quaffle a few times, teased the wings of a snitch, and scuttled out once the shopkeeper gave them that look every small boy knows. The 'funs been had, time to go' look. Laughing, they spilled onto the street and began window browsing, appearing from behind like two small twins in their matching cloaks. Just like on the muggle side, they wandered whispering, shoulders bumping while the young Malfoy took his turn explaining everything they saw.

While looking in the Apothecary windows, he talked about how he started potions tutoring with his godfather over the summer and how the man gave him a reading and study guide for the year and that he'd bring a copy next Saturday. Since none of it was practical yet, it wouldn't matter that Harry didn't have a place to practice. Once he got his Mum's inheritance worked out, it shouldn't be hard to hide a few potions books from his muggle relatives. Harry was doubly glad for the hidy hole in his cupboard as well as the curtain over his shelves, both of which would make hiding books dead easy.

A couple doors down and Draco had the great idea that they should get copies of all the books he'd been using so that they could start studying the same things. They could study together, even if they weren't in the same place. He looked around and took them over to some wide steps leading up to a terrace.

"In the summer, they have tables up there; I'm surprised it's been cleared out already. Nobody will mind our sitting here. Do you have something to write on in that bag? I can make you a list in case it takes too long at the bank and I have to leave."

Harry nodded and pulled out his notebook and a pencil and handed them to Draco, who looked at them in horror. "I've only ever used parchment and quill…"

"Don't worry, it's actually loads easier. Here." He took them back, opened the notebook to a blank page and wrote a title at the top of the paper: Books to buy for studying. He then handed them back.

"Ohhh." The blond flipped a few of the pages and felt the paper. "That's handy, having it all tied up like this in a book. It's awful thin, but I guess it doesn't matter for simple stuff like lists. I like the lines." He fumbled a bit with the pencil, but with Harry's help, he finally got a good grip and started writing his booklist. A notation was added for each book to indicate Draco's current chapter.

Watching him, Harry started to worry if he was taking advantage of his new friend. He looked down and bit his lip. "You don't have to do all this. I don't want you to think I expect my friends to do things for me all the time. Are all your friends like you? So nice to new people?"

Draco paused in his writing and started to play with the pencil. "Well, I don't really have any other friends. There are boys whose fathers are my father's associates, but we aren't friends. I don't like spending time with them and they don't particularly like me either, although they try to pretend because of our fathers. I wouldn't trust them at all, but I do trust you."

He glanced around to make sure nobody was close by, then leaned in closer to Harry before continuing. "Did you ever simply know something, like an instinct? Something that doesn't make any sense to know, but you just do and it turns out right?"

Harry looked at him with wide eyes. After a moment, he slowly nodded.

"Good, I hoped it would happen to you too. Once I figured out what it was, it started happening more often. Not a lot, but not rarely either, or maybe it's just that I was paying attention. This has to be our most secret of club secrets, alright?"

He waited for Harry's enthusiastic agreement, (just the thought of having secrets with another child gave Harry a happy shiver), then looked around once more and continued in a very quiet low tone. "I was wondering about it and I came up with an idea, but I didn't find anything on it in the library or any of the family records on magic. I think it's tied to us being different, especially since it happens to you too. This is part of it, why I'm nice to you so fast. We're the same - I just knew it. I don't need to use an act, with you I can simply be myself for once, just friends. We're supposed to be friends you know, that's one of those things I just knew."

Harry tilted his head. "Really? You knew we would be friends?"

Draco nodded. "Yes. I felt it when we shook hands. It was one of those clicks I get sometimes." He shrugged. "That's why I laughed, it all made sense."

Harry sat up "I get those too, it feels like a click." They looked at each other for a moment, and then Harry looked worried. "I'm not sure I felt anything then. Does that mean something bad?"

Draco thought back to when he was first discovering this instinct. "I don't think so. You simply might have missed it. You're not used to thinking about it much yet, especially not thinking about it being part of your magic." Harry's brow was still furrowed. "Look, do you always offer to lend money to people you just met and feel like instant friends?"

His worried face turned clear. "No, I don't. You're right, I've never felt like I had a friend before and I did when we shook hands."

"So you did feel it, it just didn't make it up to here." And Draco tapped Harry's head. "Don't worry. It will be clearer for you now, now that you know and are looking for it." He nudged his shoulder into Harry's and the two giggled before Draco returned to his list.

A warm feeling spread throughout Harry's small body as sat watching Draco. Happiness bubbled in his chest and he savored the feelings. He finally had his first friend, and they already had a secret between them. Just like real friends in the books he read. And like he said, they didn't need to hide anything from each other because they were the same. He wouldn't have to pretend about anything; being smart, the freaky stuff…nothing.

Draco mused on softly, almost speaking to himself. "I thought I was all alone and wouldn't have any help protecting myself and keeping it hid. But now I'm not alone. I was so relieved when you said you were 8 and I realized you were exactly like me."

He stopped writing and turned to face Harry. His face was serious.

"There's something you need to understand about the Magical world. People want power -- magical or political or money -- it's all the same. If they don't have a lot themselves, and sometimes even if they do, they want more and they want to control people who have any. Some people feel like they'll never have enough. They always want more. For them, controlling someone else is like having that person's power for their own."

He paused and looked significantly at Harry to make sure he was paying close attention. Harry's happy feeling began to drain as Draco continued. "People are going to want to control us. For me it will be partly because of my families position and wealth, but for both of us, it will be because of our power and because we're different. That's why I have to even be careful with my own father."

Draco rubbed his finger along the notebooks spiral, then took a deep breath and spoke so softly that Harry could barely hear him. "He wants power, lots of it. He'll use me as much as he can. He'll do everything possible to keep his control over me and make it strong now, while I'm weak and young. We're supposed to be moldable at this age, like a blank piece of clay where they can write their values and stamp an image of themselves. It doesn't mean he doesn't love me, but I'm not sure what matters more to him, me as his son or having my future power to control, to add to his. He's very forceful; sometimes he scares me a little."

He shifted around uneasily on the step and looked about again to make sure nobody was near. "If people find out you have power, or will in the future, they'll do the same to you. I know my father will try once he sees you and realizes you're like me. We need to learn, but we need to not let anyone, not even family, know just how powerful we become or what we know. We'll need to figure out a way to hide it, pretend to be less while we have the chance. We'll have to be very good at it because we need to hide from very smart and powerful adult wizards who won't be easy to fool."

The boy clutched earnestly at Harry's arm to emphasize his point. "To control us, people are going to try to smash us down, make us dependent on them, make us doubt ourselves and each other. The best way to control someone is through their doubts and fears. That's what my father says. He also talks about dividing and conquering. That means keeping someone alone so you can more easily conquer them. He doesn't realize that when he gives me lectures on being a Malfoy, he's giving me advance warning of his own methods."

There was a wry smile on his face, but his eyes were sad. He took a deep breath, looked carefully at Harry and took a risk he'd never before thought possible. "I'm afraid of doing this alone. Ever since I started figuring things out, I've been afraid and I've hated being alone. Now I'm not. I'm still scared, but it's not so bad, there being two of us. We can figure out how to do this together. I'm not alone anymore, so I'm not going to be as easy to conquer."

Harry didn't know what to think. It seemed that the older he got, the more complicated his life got and everything always turned out more complicated than he'd thought it would…..just like the last time he came to London. He leaned into Draco to give comfort and support.

Harry's voice was a little squeaky when he started talking. "How can someone get control of us? Can't we just … say no and stay away from them?"

Draco snorted. "That may work for you in the Muggle world, but how can I avoid my own father living in the same house? And once we're at school, we won't be able to get away from people either. Sometimes there are people you have to work with for different reasons, something you can't ignore like business or social gatherings. You have to pay attention to what they say so you don't end up trapped into something you'd rather avoid."

"Well, if we're going to be these really strong wizards, can't we use magic to protect us?"

"Yes, eventually - but I don't want to wait 20 years and have to struggle to break free. That's a long, long time away and a lot can happen. Look at us now. We look like 6 yr olds and we can't do any magic, even if we had a wand. Our core's just aren't developed enough. Future ability isn't going to help us at all. Remember, we won't reach our full growth until our late 20's and our magic will finish developing a couple years after that. I don't know about you, but I don't want to wait until I'm 30 to be independent and not someone's puppet."

"THIRTY!" Harry's voice was shocked and he sat up straight. That sounded absolutely ancient to the young boy.

"Yea. I looked up my ancestor in the family book. You know, the one who was small like me. He didn't reach his full growth until 27 and he thought his magic stopped at around 29. He wrote it took him another 4 years to fine tune things and fully develop his potential. So, we WILL be amazingly strong wizards, but it won't do us any good now. We're on our own for the next 20 years until we can back things up with power. We have to use our wits to keep us safe, at least until we come of age if not until we come into our power."

"Are you sure we can't use magic at all? I've done some accidental magic; can't we try to train that someway?" Harry pled. He really wanted to try using magic now.

"Absolutely not!" Draco was horrified and he went back into lecture mode. "That would be the worst thing we could do. It's really bad for our growth. Besides, magic's difficult to grab hold of at our age. It's accidental -- it comes out of big emotions and dangerous situations. We couldn't do it anyways, but the book says that if you use too much magic when you're young, when your core isn't at the right point, it can damage the core's development. It's like flaws in a frame or cracks in glass, and then it won't work well the rest of your life. There're people in the records who tried that and their magic ended up all wonky when they grew up. They couldn't channel lots of magic properly and didn't meet their potential. The intense spells would just collapse on them and they couldn't keep up any type of continuous magic use. The book explains it as the structure of their magical core was flawed from being overly stressed while it was trying to build the frame. Then, when they try to push things, their core can't hold on. So, it's actually really important that we try not to have any accidental magic bursts - or at least keep them small. There's a reason nobody starts doing magic until 11."Harry stared for a moment. It seemed like there was so much he didn't know and he could end up messing up his magic because of it. He had soo much to learn.

"How do you do that, stop accidental magic?"

"You have to keep your emotions under control and stay out of danger. Be as happy as possible."

"What about when you're little and you can't control things?"

Once again, color bloomed high on Draco's pale cheeks and he shifted on the step, obviously embarrassed.

"Well, Malfoy's have a reputation for being horribly spoiled as children. But really, it's just so we won't do any accidental magic while we're little because we want something or we're angry. Once we're old enough to reason and use some control, then Malfoy parents usually start changing things."

Harry burst into laughter. "So you really are utterly spoiled and completely used to getting your way!"

His friend tilted his head while a cocky grin spread across his face. "Yes, of course. I am a Malfoy." His tone was perfectly snooty, but he ruined his pose by starting to laugh.

Harry nudged him with his elbow. "So, are they now changing things and you don't get everything you want?"

More squirming and that color was back in his cheeks.

"Well...you see… not really, because I'm so small and growing slower than normal. I heard father tell mother it's best to wait longer than usual. That's how I got them to let me meet father in the alley so I could sneak out and see the muggle side. If I raise enough fuss about something, they always let me have my way so I don't get too emotional."

Harry's jaw dropped. "You're playing them!!"

Draco grinned and looked somewhat proud "Of course. It would be stupid not to take advantage of the situation. I'm old enough to think, reason and plan, but because we grow slower, I'm still in that phase of core growth where they don't want accidental magic happening. It's bloody fantastic really, what I can get away with if I'm careful." The last part was said very slyly.

A slow smile spread across Harry's face. "I can't decide if you're absolutely horrible or amazingly brilliant."

"I'd say I'm both!" The two laughed together and then Draco returned to writing while Harry thought about everything. Several minutes later, Draco's list was done and Harry needed a recap.

"So let me see if I've got this straight. We're going to be, eventually, extremely powerful wizards, more than anyone else, but the downside is that this won't happen for a really long time."

"Right."

"You're father is going to want to control both of us because he is likely the only one who will know about this. He knows about you and all he has to do is take one look at me and my size and he'll know about me too."

Draco nodded his agreement and Harry continued.

"Other people may figure this out as we get stronger and want to start trying to control us "

"Right again."

"Now we're basically helpless. We can't protect ourselves physically because of our size and we're too young for magic. Our first few years at Hogwarts, we'll likely not be very strong because our magic will still be developing slower than everyone else's did. When we're 11, we'll be like most other kids were at 9 or 10."

Draco nodded and added a bit more. "We'll start out slower than everyone else because we need a better framework, but we'll grow longer and we'll end up better off, its just going to be difficult until we're around 25-30."

Harry dropped his head into his hands and mumbled "Bugger all…"

The other boy chewed on his lip and wondered if maybe he shouldn't have said anything about this today. He fiddled with the notebook and pencil.

Harry eventually raised his head and took a deep breath. "My Aunt Petunia always says 'forewarned is forearmed'. Learning about the magical world is more complicated than I thought it would be, but I can't change that, so I just have to deal with it. My Aunt says it's useless to wallow in what-if's and we have to work with what we've got, not what we wished we had. I'm just going to tell myself to be glad to know ahead of time so we can plan. Plans are good; I'm really getting into making plans."

He thought for a few more moments then gave himself a good shake. "Alright, we don't have to solve it all right now; we can think about it and talk more at the tower next Saturday. But, I don't think it's going to be that hard, its lots like what I do now at school -- make it look like I know less than I do. I'm pretty good at it already. I've been hiding what I know for years in school and at home. Lately my Aunts been helping me to do it better. We can take the same methods and change them up for magic learning. It'll work. THIS is something I'm very good at, and you being good at having an act will help. We'll need to come up with new acts for this, but it will work."

Malfoy's smile was filled with relief. He held his hand to the side "Green and Grey?" Harry nodded and they shook hands. "Grey and Green. This club is an even better idea than I first thought when you brought it up." They smiled in perfect agreement and returned to the list. Draco explained everything and pointed out the section of books he'd finished vs the ones he was working on now. They stood, looked up and down the Alley, and decided to visit the nearby Magical Menagerie to look at the animals before going to the bank.

Once there, they browsed through the different categories of animals, and as they got closer to the reptile section, Harry couldn't help but hear the dozens of snake voices talking to each other. Pausing in front of a tank with a beautiful viper, Harry heard it make a subtle but sarcastic comment to the neighboring snake. He was remarking on their matching cloaks and size, but their opposite looks - blond and dark. Harry couldn't help laughing -- it was quite clever.

Draco gave him an odd look. "What's so funny?"

"I'm sorry; didn't you think it was funny?"

"What? I didn't hear anything."

Harry looked at him in surprise. He motioned toward the snake. "You didn't hear what he said?"

Draco's eyes went so wide they looked like they might fall right out of his head. He grabbed Harry and shushed him then looked around carefully to see if they were overheard. Seeing they were alone in that section, he began to speak quietly.

"Only whisper, barely make a sound. Don't let anyone hear, this is club vital secret number 2." He paused and took a deep shaky breath. "Do you understand what snakes say and can you speak to them as well?"

Draco was holding himself so still he was practically trembling with the effort. Harry suddenly realized that this may not be an average magical ability. He looked around before replying; then looked Draco straight in the eyes as he nodded and whispered. "Yes, I always have since I was little. Don't you? Don't other people?"

"Sweet Merlin…." He grabbed Harry's arm as he swayed a bit. "No, I can't. It's extremely rare. You must never speak of this to anyone but me; never let anyone know you can do this. It's called Parseltongue. People who can speak it are called Parselmouths. Almost everyone in the Wizarding world is afraid of it. They say it's the sign of a dark evil wizard. I don't believe that, but the last wizard to be like that was a dark wizard who killed a lot of people. He was killed when we were babies, but everyone is still afraid to even speak his name."

Harry's eyes went almost as wide as his friends and his voice shook. "Does this mean I'm going to be dark and evil?"

"NO!" He replied in a fervent whisper. "I don't believe that at all. People just say that because they don't like snakes and it's associated with Slytherin House. But they're wrong; they're just being paranoid sheep. You're not going to be dark and evil, I promise! Really."

Harry's heart slowed down and he gave Draco a shaky smile, glad he was there and that he was his friend. He wondered about what he'd said. "How…how can you promise that?"

Draco looked around to make sure they were still alone. He was thankful snakes were so unpopular. "I can't explain it now, especially here, we can talk about it next week. Just trust me for now; we can't go dark or light. We're balanced, you and me. Equal parts of both."

The two boys stood still, staring into each other's eyes. One searching for reassurance; the other trying hard to provide it. Draco reached out and clasped his friend's shoulder.

"Alright there?"

Harry nodded and his smile was more genuine and relaxed.

"Yes, I'm fine now. I trust you; you know more about all this than I do."

It was becoming more and more obvious to Harry just how much catching up he had to do with magical knowledge. It was a good thing he was so far ahead in school. It was probably going to take a year or more just to catch up to his friend. Being different, he couldn't afford to wait until he was eleven to start. That would be too dangerous. He needed to fully understand the magical world and the basic concepts of magic before he arrived at Hogwarts. Minimally, just like someone who was raised in this world, but preferably at a much higher level.

As his eyes focused back on the tanks in front of them, he saw all the snakes peering at them with great interest, flicking their tongues, tasting the air. After a quick look around to ensure they were still alone, he decided to risk it and asked quietly.

"_**Why are you staring at us?"**_

Draco jerked and grabbed Harry's arm again, frantically peeping around the room. The snakes stilled; and the larger ones raised their heads higher to get a better look at the boys. He could hear them mutter to each other; "_**Speaker, the boy is a Speaker…**_"

The viper in front of him got his attention by waving his head and upper section side to side. "_**We stare because you and the other child smell / taste of potential power and magic. You two are a heady combination for those of us capable of recognizing it. I couldn't help but hear your conversation. I can assure you child, you do not taste of evil. Not a single taint. Your friend is right. The two of you taste of almost perfect balance - this is quite rare in humans.**_"

The snake stared into Harry's eyes for a moment. "_**You will buy me and take me home. I will make a good familiar and protector. I also give good counsel. We will fit, I accept you. Go, buy me now**_." He ordered with a flick of his tail.

Harry turned to his friend and tugged on his cloak. "What am I going to do? I can't do what he wants."

"I don't know what was said, remember? What does he want and what did you say to them?"

"OH, right. I asked why they were staring at us and he said it was because we smelled like power and magic. He also said he heard our conversation and that I didn't taste of evil, that both of us taste of an almost perfect balance, just like you said. That's a relief! Anyway, then he said he wanted me to take him home, that he'd be my familiar and protect me and give good counsel. He said he accepted me and then ordered me to go buy him now. What do I do? I can't take a snake home, especially a poisonous one. I live with muggles! My family has no idea I'm even here and that I know I'm a wizard! I think I'd like him, but I can't. He couldn't survive the winter living in the back garden with Sybil the garden snake!" He tugged again. "What do I do?"

Draco looked at him with eyebrows raised and gave a short laugh. "You really do get into odd situations, don't you?"

Harry huffed and straightened his own cloak. "Yes, I told you I do. They somehow seem to sniff me out."

"Well, I think your new familiar has an idea. He's trying to get your attention again."

Harry's head swiveled back to the viper tank, and sure enough, there he was waving again.

"_**Don't worry youngling. You will have a place for me soon. I expect you to come back for me or send for me in a few days. If you must send a minion for me, they must ask for Sssssrah and I will come forward and allow them to take me.**_" His head and upper sections tilted and twisted. "_**You must leave here now; I will see you in a few days. Go.**_" With an emphatic flip of his tail, he turned away and curled up in the rear of his tank.

Harry decided to follow the odd command. This day just couldn't get any stranger.

"Come on, let's go to the bank. It's getting late."

Once they were outside and walking down to Gringotts, he told Draco the snake's odd comments and they agreed it would be interesting to see if he was right. Within another block, they were stopped by a Goblin.

"I'll escort you from here lad." He said to Harry with a nod. He then turned to Draco. "You need to be on your way now."

"What? I'm going in with him, he's never been to Gringotts and I need to change money to pay him back." Draco was so startled he forgot to be insulted at being ordered by a Goblin.

"No you aren't. You may give what you owe later to Goblin Griphook and he will see it credited to the right account. You are going back to Madam Malkins. I just saw your father heading up that way, and when he finds you gone, he'll be all over the Alley."

Draco's face paled. His father wasn't a man you left waiting, especially when he would be told that Draco had picked up the cloak ages ago. He had to get there before father asked questions. He turned, taking a few steps away before stopping and turning back. "But, he doesn't know you and --"

"I knew his father, he has his look. You know perfectly well that Goblins have no interest in harming wizard children. I will escort him to the bank while you meet your father. Go, NOW." He barked in a firm voice and the young Malfoy jumped, waved and yelled a fast goodbye to Harry and bolted up the Alley.

The Goblin turned back to a confused Harry. "It is important, young sir, that you do exactly as I tell you. All will be explained inside the bank with your account manager. Pull your hood further onto your head so your face sits deeper inside. Yes, that's right. Now, no matter what, do not look at anyone but me as we move through the lobby. I know you will want to look around, but there will be another time for that. Right now, we must get you into the offices as quickly as possible, with nobody noticing you. The cloak was a very good idea, especially keeping the hoods up. Do not -- under any circumstances -- meet the eyes of any human inside. Look only at me or the ground until I tell you it is safe. You are to nod and go along with anything I may say in the lobby to screen your identity."

He leaned closer in and spoke in a hoarse whisper. "If anyone says your name, you are to ignore it and pretend it is not your name. You do not answer to your name until we are in the office of your account manager. This is for your own safety, young sir. All will make sense once your account manager explains your situation. Now, we must go quickly. Stay next to me. I will hold your arm until we are safely inside and then you are to follow behind me. More Goblins will follow behind us."

Harry glanced around and saw that many of the Goblins he'd noticed wandering the Alley, were now moving towards them and the bank. He was deeply confused, but the bank was where he wanted to go, and Goblins were who he wanted to talk to, so he went along with the instructions. He was led quickly to the bank and up the steps. The guards had the doors open before they even reached them.

Once inside, the Goblin moved ahead of him and spoke loudly. "Just follow me Young Sir. Your father is waiting in the offices." Harry almost jumped, but remembered the warning and kept his eyes firmly on the Goblins back. He could feel movement behind him, but he didn't turn to look. That must just be more Goblins like he'd mentioned. The room felt large and he was dying to look around; but reminded himself he knew nothing about this world and his own place inside it. He was being taken to his account manager, and that's exactly where he wanted to go. He wasn't going to muck things up because he didn't understand how things were done. It did occur to him that they may have him mixed up with someone else; after all, he did have his hood up all the time so how could that Goblin have known he looked like his father? His Aunt did say that once, but only once a long time ago. He may not look very much like him at all.

This line of thought died quickly as he was led into a large office with several Goblins sitting at a table off to one side and a large Goblin behind a parchment and ledger covered desk. The large Goblin rose as the door closed.

"Good Day Mr. Potter. We have been eagerly awaiting your arrival. I am your account manager, Swiftrock."

The Goblins then did something quite strange. They all grinned and Harry discovered that while a single Goblin grin may be startling; a room full of grinning Goblins was a very scary thing indeed.

* * *

EOC

Revision loaded May 15

Next - chapter 13 - Paradigm shifts for all

A/N -- The next chapter will cover Harry's meeting with the goblins, a discussion between Vernon and Petunia, and a bit of Lucius and Draco. I hope it won't take as long as this one!

Thanks for reading everyone and I hope you enjoyed it.


	13. Chpt 13: Paradigm shifts for all…Part 1

**A/N**: The scene between Vernon and Petunia ended up longer than I had expected, but I wanted all of it at the time. I'm not sure what to cut, but I will continue editing.

The money issue. Yes I know JKR's system has flaws and her comparative prices often don't make sense…. But frankly, it isn't that big of a deal to me and it's not one of the things in the Potterverse that I'm anal about, although I know others are and I apologize for offending that crowd in advance by using the existing system with all its flaws. Personally, I'm willing to accept the pretense that the variations in the magical world _could_ be due to the impact magic would have on costs of material, as well as affects on the production process itself. I.e.: the relative cost and effort of producing an item via the two methods (mundane vs. magical) would have no relationship to each other. The world in canon simply isn't defined enough for us to have a clue about the production costs of anything, so it's an exercise in futility to apply mundane consumer price spreads to the magical economy.

So, in this fic you're going to see the canon exchange rate of 5 Galleons to a pound, around a dozen sickles for the bus ride and a few knuts for the paper owl. I simply have no plot or story driven reason to construct my own economic and production theories for this story in the Potterverse. If I ever create my own original fantasy world of magic - I'll likely enjoy the daydreaming process of doing this for myself!

Now, onward…A lot of this chapter is about people having to shift their way of thinking and Petunia's molding of her son kicks into high gear and goes from covert to overt. The Dursley's shift's are 1 - Dudley; 2 - the cupboard & Harry; and 3 - a little something about themselves. At the same time, Harry is having a goblin induced shift about himself and the goblins are having one about Harry - he isn't exactly what they had anticipated.

* * *

**Chapter 13 - Paradigm shifts for all…Part 1**

After cleaning up behind Dudley, Petunia came downstairs with the dustbin to find Vernon waiting for her in the lounge. His expression was not a happy one.

"I can tell what you're up to Petunia; you're planning to give Dudley's second bedroom to that boy. Why else would you tell Dudley he can't move anything else into that room? I know I told you that everything to do with the boy was up to you, but this involves the rest of us as well."

She stopped in her tracks and mentally stiffened her spine. She hated it when Vernon figured out something before her maneuvers were finished. He was a week ahead of her. She had planned to talk to him today about Dudley's hoarding, and then bring up moving Harry in a week or two after she had already re-arranged the room. Trying to do it all at once was a bad idea, a very bad one. This wasn't likely to end well. She calmed her face and placed the bin in the hallway.

"It is in the back of my mind to have him sleep up there, but I have never planned to give him the entire room nor is that my only reason for what I've told Dudley. I'd planned for us to discuss this today, while both boys were out for the day. I wasn't trying to hide anything from you Vernon; I just wanted our discussion to take place in private once both boys were out of the house."

She moved into the room. Vernon was standing with his hands on his hips, but luckily, his complexion hadn't reddened, which meant he wasn't angry yet. She still had time to salvage the situation.

"My main reason for today is due to something I've been noticing. It was especially evident the last time I had him tidy that room. Dudley is becoming a packrat, a hoarder, one of those people who can't throw anything away. You know the type; I've seen them on afternoon talk shows. They end up living with piles of rubbish everywhere, completely unable to sort through their belongings and so compulsively possessive they can't get rid of a thing. I don't want that for our son. He needs to learn how to let go of things he no longer has any use for; things that are broken or have outlived their usefulness and have no true sentimental value. He keeps everything Vernon and can't stand the idea of anything that was his being out of his control. You know very well that's not a healthy attitude for an adult. What is he going to do on the job when a task or space is reassigned? Dudley needs to learn how to let go and how to determine useful possessions from rubbish. It's our job as his parents to force him to learn these things, no matter how unpleasant the process."

Vernon's eyebrows had never been raised so high. This was completely not what he was expecting. The shock kept him silent.

"This is also about him learning responsibility. If he is going to have the benefit of his own personal storage space in addition to his bedroom, then he must take over the responsibility for maintaining that space appropriately. It's the same thing you do Vernon, with this home and our car. You maintain our belongings and storage areas and do it very well. He needs to learn this lesson, albeit on a smaller scale. If he doesn't, then how on earth will he be able to do so on the larger scale when he's grown? Dudley needs to learn to follow your lead more, Vernon. You do a very good job of getting rid of things that we no longer have need of, and in keeping up what we have. I'm just trying to teach him to follow your example."

Vernon's hands were no longer on his hips and his face had turned thoughtful. "I guess I can see you're point Pet, about Dudley learning to sort things. I tend to ignore that room, but, if I think about it, it is a jumble in there. I myself would never allow the shed or garage to be so unorganized. His main bedroom is fine though Pet. He keeps that one up and tidy enough."

Petunia felt a smidge of relief, but knew she wasn't out of the woods yet. She had to make sure the issue became one primarily about Dudley and their comfort.

"That's because I help keep his bedroom tidy and he tosses everything that doesn't have an obvious spot into the other room. Having an entire room where he can hide things out of sight merely encourages bad habits. Broken things should either be fixed or gotten rid of, not left around to gather dust. Again, this is something where he needs to follow your lead. Like early this spring when the mower broke. You didn't leave it in the shed once you knew it couldn't be fixed, you got rid of it."

She sat down and prayed he would follow her example. She couldn't suppress the sigh of relief when he did so and sat facing her. So far, the redirection seemed to be working. Hopefully, Vernon would forget all about her making space upstairs for Harry.

"He's growing up Vernon. We need to start molding him into the kind of young man you want him to become, the kind of youngster you want to send to Smeltings. We only have three years before he's living the majority of the year under other's eyes, eyes that will be judging him without a parent's love to filter that viewpoint. We won't be there to comfort him if he's teased harshly because of bad habits we allowed. From what you've said of your own years there, the influence and opinions of the staff and older boys came to be more important to you than that of your own parents. I can't help but think of that happening with our Dudley. Especially when it comes to how his current habits would be seen by the other boys. At Smeltings, he won't have another room to use as a holding area to keep things out of sight and maintain the appearance of being tidy."

Vernon sighed in resignation and leaned back into his chair.

"Yes, you're right there. When he goes to Smeltings, he won't be allowed to spread out like that, nor keep a messy area. He does have to start somewhere and it would be best if it was a habit before he left." He rubbed his temples. "Boys that were messy were treated extremely harshly by their roommates and the prefects. I definitely don't want my Dudley to be one of those."

Vernon's face scrunched up into a thoughtful frown and he scratched his chin. "He's so young, I never thought about our only having him to ourselves for three more years. Especially not how our influence will be diluted afterwards."

Petunia leaned forward.

"It wouldn't be fair to Dudders to try and squeeze everything into the last year or two. We need to start now, just as you've done with his study habits, and give him time to absorb each change. If we're careful Vernon, we can have the last year for simply staying the course, fine tuning our influence and enjoying that year with our son, the work already done. When he goes off to Smeltings, we can relax knowing we have done everything possible to ensure it will be a positive experience for Dudders."

Vernon huffed a little and sat back, thinking. Eventually, his eyes came back to Petunia's.

"Yes, there are several habits that are treated harshly at Smeltings that we can spend the next few years teaching Dudley to avoid. That I do agree with and I'll spend some time this week identifying them. But, I don't see why the boy has to leave the cupboard. It's worked well so far and why should we have to accommodate someone we never asked for in the first place? I don't want him upstairs with us!"

Petunia wanted to bang her head against the wall. She'd thought the subject had been changed, but Vernon was in one of his bulldog moods. At least she was ready for this; she'd spent last week organizing her points. She wasn't backing down on this one, the repercussions down the line were too important.

"Darling, we have to deal with the situation eventually; we might as well do so now. In a normal household, you won't find someone living in a cupboard. It's just a time bomb ticking away. At some point, the wrong people are going to find out. How would you feel if your bosses or co-workers found out your nephew lived in the cupboard under the stairs? Think about what it could do to your career. These things have a way of coming out Vernon - usually when it's the most inconvenient! All it takes is someone to try and put away a wet brolly or galoshes and they open the door and realize it's not a storage cupboard but some child's room with a bed and clothes and possibly even the child himself sitting in there doing schoolwork!"

Petunia, realizing she was getting a tad shrill, cleared her throat and smoothed her skirt to calm her nerves before continuing down her mental list of points. So far Vernon hadn't interrupted, but she had no idea how he was taking things.

"Frankly, I think we should be proactive like you were with the clothes issue Vernon. You had the right of it then. Deal with potentially damaging situations before they get out. Just like the clothes, this one is easily fixed; all we have to do is move him out of the cupboard. Actually, we don't even have to do the moving, we just create a space for him to move into himself. There's no reason to give him the entire room. The space can serve both purposes; storage for us and a small place for the boy to sleep and keep his clothing."

Pet went for her next point, comfort and ease for them.

"I would really like to have the cupboard back to its original use. I think of this as being more for our sake than his. It would be much more convenient for me to store cleaning supplies and platters. Think of what a relief it will be when we have guests over, it would be much easier to keep the boy out of sight if he has a space upstairs, out of the way. Down here, he's in the thick of our homes public area. Upstairs, we wouldn't have to worry anymore about someone opening the door or hearing him in there. I'm always a nervous wreck thinking he's going to sneeze and wondering how on earth I'll explain things."

Vernon's patience came to an end and he jumped up and began to pace about the room, waving his hands. His words showed he hadn't been paying much attention; he'd simply been sitting there bristling while she'd thought he was being convinced. "NO! We will not be rearranging or adjusting our lives for James Potter's son! My son will not lose anything to his. I made a promise to myself when we took him in that Dudley would never be shorted in any way because of a Potter. I swore that boy would never get a thing that should go to Dudley and now you want to give him Dudley's spare room, his playroom! I won't have it Petunia!"

He stopped and turned to face her with his hands back on his hips. Not one to accept being loomed over, Petunia rose and took a step towards her husband, matching him glare for glare.

"You haven't been listening to a word I said! Talk about not letting go…you're just as bad as Dudley when it comes to this issue. Good heavens Vernon, the man is dead! How long are you going to fight a war with a dead man? He's gone and could care less, you're really only battling your own imagination and feeding a bitterness that makes you angry and frustrated. It could be said that every time his memory gets a reaction out of you, he wins because you and I are left dealing with the aftermath! Trust me Vernon -- it isn't pleasant. I don't like seeing you all wound up like this."

He sputtered, blindsided by the shock of Petunia pushing back in the face of his temper. It happened rarely, but he was reminded that when roused, her temper could rival his own. Others hardly ever saw it, but they were indeed a well-matched pair.

He fell back on simply re-stating his view as emphatically as possible. "He isn't going to take Dudley's room from him; the cupboard has worked well, and will continue to be enough. That room belongs to Dudley, not him."

Petunia realized she'd let his stubbornness about Harry go on too long. She was going to have to resort to an uncharacteristically drastic bluntness, but she wasn't about to give in -- no matter how bad it got. With her eye on their future, she went on the attack.

"Oh, enough Vernon! Stop revising history! You know very well that we never meant to leave him in the cupboard; his staying in there was accidental anyway. We would simply be doing what we had originally planned when the boy was left here. If he hadn't been terrified of being upstairs at night in an open space all those years ago, he would have been in that bedroom since the beginning. He's only in the cupboard because it was easier to let him sleep in his nighttime hiding place than it was to deal with his fears and memories of the attack. It never should have gone on this long. That room only became Dudley's when he used to run around up there as a toddler in foul weather. He could throw that ball of his and not break anything. Its being his room just…happened…we never really meant things to be like this years later and you know it."

Petunia took a few more steps closer to Vernon. She looked straight into his eyes and spoke calmly but firmly. "We've always known this day was coming and it's silly to fuss about it. We might as well bite the bullet and get things over with before this situation turns on us like the eyeglasses. All it would take Vernon, is one friend of Dudley's to say something in front of their parents. You know all those boys know about the cupboard. Imagine the gossip then!"

Vernon's eyes cut away from Petunia's. "None of them have talked yet; I don't see why that would change. It's only for a few more years anyway and he's not likely to grow too large for the space before then. Once he's gone it won't matter, moot point really. You said your sister spent little time home in the summers; he'll likely be the same. If we're lucky, he'll spend all his summers elsewhere."

Petunia's patience snapped at those words. He had that stubborn look she despised and he was being purposefully obtuse. She didn't want to go here, but he'd left her no choice. All her careful arguments flew out the window as she broached the taboo topic.

"It's not a size issue Vernon, but even if it were, he won't fit in there during the summers when he's older. He must live here in the summers. I know you don't like to discuss this or even think about it, but we need the protection from the wards just as much as he does; even more as we'll be the ones living here year round and we lack the inborn protections that saved him last time. You have to remember they weren't only after him. My parents were tortured and murdered just because they gave birth to a magical child; and they weren't the only ones. Those maniacs targeted anyone who was related to a Muggleborn. My God Vernon, they even killed their own children and grandchildren who weren't magical enough. Squibs they're called. They hunted them down just as if they were pesky rabbits that dared nibble in their garden! This to their own blood; what do you think they'd do to us?"

Vernon stood frozen, face white, listening to his worst nightmare being brought out into the open. He couldn't bear the thought of those freakish maniacs coming after his wife and son. Dear God -- how he **hated** that world with every fiber of his being. To his horror, Petunia continued talking about their safety.

"Dudley and I are in the same danger. Not because of Harry, but because my parents had a magical child and it's always possible that I, or Dudley, could do the same. They would have come after us then if they'd known about us. Luckily, Lily never talked much about me at school and mum wasn't one for having pictures scattered about the house. It helped that I never went back to that shopping area or visited with her friends. Only their closest friends knew Lily wasn't an only child. Regardless of that, because of who Harry is, we have protective wards that others in our position do not."

Petunia emphasized her next words. "I'm not about to lose that protection until we absolutely have to!" She took a few deep breaths before speaking again.

"It's entirely possible that the protection may extend after he comes of age, but only if he lives in this house with me. The problem is that nobody in their right mind would want to do that if they had to live in a cupboard or somewhere equally repulsive. If we give him a decent place to live and sleep, then he may stay here all the way through school and after until he has a job and moves into his own home as an adult. As things stand right now Vernon, he will run out that door the first moment he can and we will be completely unprotected. Neither of us is delusional enough to believe that any of those freaks would come to our rescue if Harry wasn't here. We need those wards and we need Harry!"

White-faced, Vernon backed up and dropped onto the sofa. His face was a strange mixture of fear and resignation with some remnants of stubbornness. Petunia moved to sit next to him and took one of his hands in hers.

"Vernon, it's simply time. Let's not argue about this. There's no sense to it. You need to remember that Harry is not James. He really is nothing like his father and we shouldn't hold him responsible for James failings. You wouldn't want someone to hold Dudley responsible for yours and I know I don't want him judged by the mistakes I made when I was eighteen and foolish."

She stroked his hand and then patted it. "Dudley's made enough progress on the room that if we move things about a bit, we can easily clear one side to fit in a bed and small chest of drawers. It doesn't really take anything from our Dudley. He's grown away from needing a toy room; frankly love, the room's too cluttered to be played in and has been for ages. It's not much different from giving Harry our Dudders used clothes. It's just a portion of used up room this time."

Vernon pushed back his fear and remembered his plan to stay distant, especially how he knew his decisions about the boy tended to be off at times and influenced by his anger. Petunia was right. This was probably like the glasses, an old decision that he could end up paying for if it got out to the neighbors. The protections, well, he hated thinking about those. He got indigestion just remembering how there was a group of people out there who ignored the laws of England and couldn't be held accountable. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly before turning to look at his wife.

"Alright Pet, I won't interfere." His sigh seemed to come from deep within. "When should it be done?"

"Well, I need to re-arrange things in the room to clear a section. Then I need to get a bed and small chest of drawers. I can probably do that next week while the boys are at school, then once I'm done he can move himself. Could you speak to Dudley tomorrow while you're out? If you'd rather not, I can do it tonight or in the morning."

"I'll do it. He isn't going to like it."

"No, I daresay he isn't. Whether we did it now or in three years, that wouldn't change. No way around that."

The two of them sat on the sofa for quite a while, holding hands, each lost in their own thoughts but both feeling emotionally exhausted.

* * *

oooOoooOoooOoooOooo

Draco Malfoy raced up Diagon Alley only to pause a few steps from Madam Malkins. After a speedy adjustment of his clothes, including the removal of his hood and smoothing his hair, he stepped quickly to the door and entered to the sound of his father's voice.

"So my son has already picked up the cloak?" Malfoy Senior gripped his cane tighter.

"Father." Draco spoke as he moved forward.

The man turned. "Ahhh." He gave his son a quick evaluating up and down glance before returning his attention to the seamstress. Draco knew he would face more once they returned to the privacy of their home. Malfoy's never publicly corrected each other, his father felt that Draco's reputation reflected upon his own and Lucius would never do anything to disparage either in the eyes of outsiders.

"Madam, has the account been settled?" The cane twirled in his hand, silver top catching the light.

"Yes Lord Malfoy, the young master handled things promptly and properly." She smiled at the lad and Draco felt relief move up his spine. She wasn't going to say anything about his friend and the second cloak.

"Of course." Lucius tilted his head slightly; the idea of his son doing anything else was completely unthinkable.

"Well then…" One hand tightly clasped his son's shoulder while the other gestured toward the door. Keeping his hold on the boy, he turned back briefly. "Thank you Madam, the cloak is obviously up to your regular quality. Good Day." The smooth blond head nodded graciously then he escorted his son out of the shop and donned his hat. Hand never leaving Draco's shoulder, they walked casually to the apparition point where, after a significant glance, Lucius took them home.

They arrived in the Welcome Room of Malfoy Manor. An elf stepped forward to take their cloaks and his father's hat and gloves. Once the elf had popped away, Lucius's hand once again came down tightly on Draco's shoulder and held the boy in front of him.

"Draco. You were not where I expected you to be upon my arrival." The words were spoken calmly with smooth tones, but his father's grip, posture, and sharp eyes left no doubt to his displeasure.

"I apologize, Father. I was in the Menagerie looking at the animals. I wanted to compare the live animals to the pictures in the book I've been studying. I kept the hood up on my cloak so I would not be recognized. I'm sorry; I must have lost track of the time. It won't happen again."

Lucius looked closely at Draco's face, then nodded and released his shoulder.

"See that it doesn't. I would prefer that you did not run wild through the Alley like a common urchin. Remember your place Draco. Did you at least learn something from your time there?"

"Yes sir, it was quite helpful to be able to touch some of the animals and see them up close. I hadn't realized just how soft a kneazel could be and the snakes were fascinating."

"Do you want one, kneazel or snake?" His father adjusted his cuffs.

"Not particularly, it was nice to touch the felines and see the young, but I don't think I want one. I may want a snake later though."

"Hmmm. We will discuss it then when your desires change. Luncheon will be in an hour. Tidy up and do not keep your mother waiting."

"Yes sir." Draco bowed respectfully to his father, received his nod, and then followed him out of the room out into the main entrance hall of their home. Draco climbed the stairs while he watched his father enter his study. Once the door closed behind him, Draco ran the rest of the way upstairs and, instead of moving to his own chambers, he headed for the oldest wing of the house. Racing down the twisting maze of hallways, he ducked behind a tapestry and entered a room his father would not have recognized.

"Laurent… Laurent! You won't believe what happened in the Alley today, you were so right about going there. I met someone exactly like me! We're friends now and he's actually even smaller than I am!"

* * *

oooOoooOoooOooo

Looking around the room of Goblins, Harry nervously shuffled his feet. "Ummm, Hello?"

Swiftrock gestured to an empty chair. "Have a seat Mr. Potter."

The boy took a few steps forward. "Are you … I mean, could you have me mixed up with another Potter?"

"I doubt it, but of course we will verify your identity. Are you Harris James Potter, son of James and Lily Potter? Born July 31, 1980 and bearing a lighting bolt scar on your forehead?"

Harry was a little confused and self-consciously put his hand on his scar. "Well, I'm just Harry, but the rest sounds like me."

The goblins nodded. "Please sit here. If you will prick your finger and place a drop of blood on this special parchment, we will conclusively verify your identity."

He nodded uncertainly as he sat and looked at the items on the table in front of him. A thin bladed knife for pricking his finger rested atop a single piece of parchment. After a glance at SwiftRock, Harry took up the knife, pricked his finger and squeezed out a fat drop of blood onto the parchment. He watched amazed as it was absorbed and writing began to appear.

_Harris James Potter, age 8._

_Imminent Lord of House Potter. Potter Regent is Sirius Black, Lord Black._

_Sole Heir of James Potter, Lord Potter (deceased)_

_Sole Heir of Lily Evans Potter (deceased)_

_Designated Heir to Lord Black, House Black._

_Regent for House Black._

Harry's jaw dropped. _What?_ Swiftrock happily grunted as he picked up the parchment. He smiled and nodded to the other goblins. "It has worked; the appointment's magic holds!"

The room filled with excited chattering in Gobbledegook as the parchment was passed from goblin to goblin until it returned to Swiftrock sitting next to Harry. The goblin had a very satisfied smile while he exhaled gustily and patted the parchment.

"Well, lad, what brought you to us today?"

Harry gestured to the parchment. "What is all that? Is my name really Harris?"

"All in good time, lad. We will get to this, but first we should handle the business that brought you to the bank today."

"Well, I wanted to ask if my parents had left me anything, any inheritance. Especially about my mum's vault #2471. That paper seems to say that they did leave me something."

Harry liked seeing the surprise on the goblins face. "Yes, your parents left you 'something', a great many 'somethings'. How is it that you know the number of your mother's vault?"

"She wrote it down. Is it still here and does it still have her inheritance from her Aunt Matilda? Can I get into it?"

The goblin nodded. "Yes it is here and, through proper investing, has grown in value since the initial deposit." Swiftrock looked thoughtfully at Harry. "Full access is available to this vault for you." He made eye contact with a couple other goblins before continuing. "Indeed, it is best if you use this vault rather than some of the others available."

"Others? How many do I have?"

"Several, young Master Potter, you have varying levels of access to a great many vaults. Most of them have conditions and, issues to consider before you access them. Your mother's vault has none. Would you like to visit the vault now and make a withdrawal?"

"Could I?" Harry moved to the edge of his seat. This sounded exciting! He could ride on the carts, see his mum's vault and get money to pay back Draco and buy some Wizard robes just like Dracos. He wouldn't have to wear this stupid costume next time he came to the Alley.

Swiftrock smiled. "Of course!" He reached into one of the boxes on the table and removed a gold key. After handing this key to Harry, he turned to the goblin by the door. "Griphook. Take Master Potter to vault 2471, use the secure cart access point. Remember, no other vault at this time, Griphook."

Griphook nodded as Harry jumped up and joined him at the door. Harry glanced back as they left the room and noticed the goblins gathering around Swiftrock excitedly gesturing and exclaiming. They were halfway down the hallway before Harry realized that they had sent him out of the room purposefully so they could talk about the parchment.

"Please raise your hood, young master."

"Huh?" At the goblin's gesture, Harry raised his cloak's hood once again. "Why do I need to do this?"

"Swiftrock will explain when we return. It's better to have your immediate business handled before we begin explaining your inheritance and the issues involved. Much more efficient this way."

Harry thought about that as they walked. He supposed that made sense, this is what he came here for and he wouldn't want to put it off and then not have time for it. To his great joy, they soon arrived at the cart entrance into the cave system and, moments later, he was whizzing along the track screaming in delight. Much too soon for Harry, they pulled to a stop in front of a vault. The goblin turned to Harry with one of those toothy grins on his face.

"I can assume you enjoyed the ride?"

"OH YES!!"

"Perhaps we can take the long way back." The young goblin and the young human shared a conspiratorial grin with each other before exiting the cart. Griphook was suddenly glad he'd been assigned to the Potter accounts. The lad seemed personable and he was totally lacking in any of the usual pureblood arrogance. He would not be difficult to work with during the upcoming years. Griphook knew that as the lowest ranking goblin on the account, he would spend the next several years escorting the young Lord to his vaults and to meetings, where, if Griphook was lucky, he would be allowed to stand by the door, listening and learning.

The system had been designed for a young heir to develop familiarity with a young goblin of potential; they would learn the accounts together -- training two for the work of one. As the heir took on more responsibility, so would the goblin - assuming they had been deemed suitable by the elder goblins. Swiftrock had been the cart driver for young Harry's great-grandfather and then rose to account manager during James short tenure as Lord. Standing on the platform in front of the vault, looking at the young human, Griphook mused that one day, if all went well, he might be in Swiftrock's lofty position with this child's grandchildren. Pleased with the brightness of his future, the goblin smiled to himself as he gestured to the door and pointed out the lock.

"This was your mother's vault. Use the key here. You may take out as much as you wish; there are no restrictions on your use of this vault. This moneybag will hold as much as you like and not feel heavy. It will also sort the contents automatically; I'll show you how it works once you've filled it."

Harry took the bag in his left while his right hand very carefully inserted the key and opened his vault. He caught his breath as he stared at the room revealed by the door. The piles of coins grabbed his attention right away. He'd never seen so much money before in his life; the huge gold piles dwarfed the smaller piles of silver and bronze.

The sound of Griphook clearing his throat brought him out of his daze and his eyes moved to the goblin. Griphook motioned his head toward the room.

"Feel free to explore. I'll wait out here."

Harry nodded and moved into the aisle along the left side of the vault room. He opened the bag and reached out to the pile of Galleons then froze with his fingers buried in the coins.

"Griphook?" He called. The goblin poked his head into the vault.

"Yes? Do you have a question?"

"I don't know how much to take. What do things cost?" He pulled his hand back with just a few coins in his palm.

"That depends. What do you want to buy?" He moved to stand in the doorway.

"Well, I want to get some wizard clothes like Draco had so I don't have to wear this stupid costume anymore and I need to pay him back for the cloak. I wanted to get some books too, but I don't know how many I can carry. I guess I'll also need some sickles for the knight bus, but I don't know what that costs nowadays. I should probably get some muggle money too, just in case I need more for trains and stuff. But maybe I shouldn't take too much in case my cousin finds the bag and steals it; I don't want to lose a lot. How much do you think I should take?"

The goblin thought for a few moments. His ability to provide accurate help here would set the tone for their entire relationship. A mistake in trust at this point would be difficult to overcome later. Griphook saw this as the first test of his ability to liaise with the young human.

"Firstly, I can assure you that this cannot be stolen by your cousin. All our moneybag's have a basic charm that makes muggles not notice them or think about where the money came from. Your cousin wouldn't even see the bag if he were to stand right in front of it. The bag also has anti-theft charms. Once the empty bag enters your vault and you begin to fill it with coin, you will be the only person able to open it and remove the contents. Since we don't have to worry about theft nor carrying weight, it would be best to use generous estimates. Do you agree?"

Harry smiled and nodded. He felt much more relaxed knowing he didn't have to worry about his family seeing the bag, and he liked how Griphook explained things. "Yes. That makes sense and there's lots here so I don't think I have to worry about taking too much."

A hoarse laugh greeted Harry's words. "No Master Potter, you definitely don't need to worry about that. I recommend you take 40 Galleons to convert to muggle currency."

He paused while Harry counted out 40 coins and dropped them in the bag. "Sickles are the silver coins. You mentioned wanting to use them on the knight bus. There are issues to consider in your using that mode of transportation, but you should have some coins all the same. I'd recommend taking 40 of those as well. Knuts would not be used much in the purchases you mentioned, but they are very handy for various small purchases like newspapers, drinks, ice cream, and other small items from vendors. Everyone should have a few knuts in their pocket. Twenty would be fine."

Harry finished tipping the coins into his bag then looked up.

"Now, your other plans. The amount needed will vary greatly based upon the quality and quantity of what you purchase. You mentioned wanting clothing similar to young Master Malfoy's. Considering the similarity of your positions in society, that would be appropriate. You do not spend much time in the magical world, so I would recommend two outfits to start out your wardrobe until you decide expansion makes sense. When I saw him in the alley earlier, he was wearing a trouser shirt combination with a tailored cutaway robe under the cloak. Quite appropriate for a mild day in Autumn. Perhaps you could have one outfit in that style with the other being in the tunic style."

"Tunic?"

"Yes. Another popular style for boys. It involves trousers or soft leggings with a tunic top and either an open front robe or a full closed robe. I've heard it said to be more comfortable and with greater freedom of movement, while allowing you to cover it under a more formal full robe if necessary. Also, they're much warmer in the winter if a full outer robe is used with good fabrics throughout."

"Those sound good. How much would all that cost at Madam Malkins?"

"You should have good quality fabrics, everything bespoke, not off the rack, so I recommend allocating 80 Galleons as a generous high point. Of course it will cost less, but the extra will be useful to have and allow a cushion in fabric selection."

Harry obediently counted out the 80. Griphook was really being helpful. He wouldn't have had the slightest idea of costs or styles. Now he wouldn't look like a fool when he went back to the shop to get wizard clothes. He mentally repeated the words he'd used, cutaway and tunic, so he could use them in the shop.

"Books. Unless your list is extraordinarily long, you don't have to worry about carrying them home. Like the clothes, they can be shrunk and lightened." Harry interrupted him.

"But don't you need a wand to bring them back to normal?"

"No, you can request that the clerks use a charm that is touch and voice activated. It's not as simple as the one with the wand, but well within their capabilities and quite commonly requested for children's purchases. I'm afraid I cannot estimate this amount without knowing how many you plan to purchase and what they are, or their category."

"Oh, I've got a list!" Harry slid his satchel around to his front, opened it and pulled out his notebook. Once he found the right page, he handed it to Griphook.

"These are the books I was thinking of getting. I've got a lot of catching up to do about magic and how things work here. I don't know if I'll get them all, but I might."

The goblin's eyebrows rose high as he looked over the list. Interesting… so this was what the two had been huddled over on those steps. He was surprised; the young Malfoy had good recommendations.

"This is quite a list. Some of these are fairly expensive as they are usually found in family libraries and used over the generations. It's likely that some are in the various Potter Libraries. I have a proposal for you to make this easier. If you would allow me to act for you in acquiring these books as well as the clothing, I can have it delivered to the meeting later on today. I can have the Potter Libraries checked for these titles then charge the new purchases to your vault and bring you the receipts and authorization form."

Harry wrinkled his brow. "Potter Libraries, plural?"

"Swiftrock will explain your inheritance, but yes, it includes various homes that have libraries. Some large, some small. I can have these libraries checked against your list so you don't end up buying something you already own and can access."

"My dad was pretty rich then, huh?" Harry gnawed on his lip. It was sounding more and more like Uncle Vernon had lied, a lot.

"Yes, lad. Your family is quite wealthy and old, going back many generations. May I act for you in these purchases to save you time and effort so you can concentrate on the meeting?"

"That might be a good idea; it's going to be a long meeting, isn't it."

Griphook nodded to the question. He took a small square out of a pocket, tapped it with his long fingernail and it expanded into a sheet of parchment. He muttered and dragged his finger along Harry's list, then tapped his blank parchment and Harry watched a duplicate of his list form. Wow… Magic was so wicked!

"Do I give you the money I already took?" He took back his notebook and put it away.

"No lad. Keep the coin as spending money. The practice in these situations is to charge the banks draw account with the different vendors, then arrange a transfer from your account to the bank for the total amount once you have reviewed the receipts and purchases."

Harry liked that. Aunt Petunia talked about how you shouldn't give someone else access to your bank accounts, so this worked and he'd have the receipts for his ledger. He looked up to Griphook and nodded.

"Okay. Let's do that then. Should we go upstairs now?"

"We can, but don't you want to look at the rest of the vault contents?"

Startled, Harry turned around and for the first time realized that the vault held more than just piles of coins. Back behind the coins along the wall were several boxes. His mum's things, more than just books… Galvanized, he dropped his satchel and bolted for the boxes while the goblin smiled and returned to the platform to wait. Griphook pulled out another parchment sheet and began making lists and plans for when they returned to the surface. He was determined to make a good impression on his first tasks for the account holder. His relationship with the child was off to a good start, now he hoped to impress his elders as well.

Harry ran his hand over the boxes stacked along the wall. They were ordinary, lidded cardboard boxes from a moving company - he recognized the logo on the side. One box had an envelope spellotaped to the side, '**Harry'** was written on the front. He pulled the letter off the box and slid down the wall to sit on the stone floor and read. When he opened the envelope and pulled out the parchment, a photograph fell out. He turned it right side up and found himself looking at a moving image of a family playing on the floor in front of a fireplace -- his family.

_Wow… I really do look a lot like my father._ The adults were stacking blocks into towers and bridges while the toddler knocked them all down and rolled about laughing and clapping his hands. Periodically one of them would tickle the boy and everyone would laugh. His mum had her hair pulled back from her face and Harry could see that he had her eyes. The man next to her was obviously his father because his messy hair was Harry's own, but Harry wondered about the dark haired man next to his father. He stared while baby Harry slowly stood up and toddled over to throw himself into this man's arms. He watched wide-eyed as the man hugged him close and kissed his head then turned him to sit in his lap with his arms wrapped around the baby's chest. Suddenly, everyone in the photo seemed to notice Harry himself and they looked out of the picture up at him and began waving happily. The tears began to flow as his finger touched their images and they never stopped while he read the letter.

_Harry,_

_It feels very strange to write a letter that will likely never be read, but I guess I have more of my father in me than I'd thought and I am writing this as a 'just in case'. No doubt you've already seen the other vaults, ( your trust, the family vault ) your dad hasn't yet decided if he's going to close his old trust vault and roll it into the main family vault. I guess even though it's been several years, he's not used to thinking of it all as 'his' yet...or maybe it's about saying goodbye to his irresponsible youth. This is my personal vault. My dad opened it for me after I started at Hogwarts. The money here comes from an inheritance from my Great-Aunt Matilda on my mother's side, she left your Aunt Petunia and I each 100,000 pounds. It's why I insisted you be named Harris in her honor. Since I've access to your Dad's vaults, I'm planning to leave this for you or my daughters. Obviously since you're reading this version of the letter, you must not have any sisters or younger brothers that would need a start in life outside of the family money. My father liked to talk about the miracle of compound interest; it seems to have been working so far, and hopefully this will grow even larger by the time your children arrive. James likes to joke and call this the 'dowry vault'. I dearly hope you haven't inherited his sense of humor… right now you are crawling on the floor around my ankles after a toy and your too young for me to have much of an idea of what you will be as a man._

_I'm not very maudlin or dramatic, so I won't go on and on and try to raise you through this letter. That wouldn't be satisfying for either of us. I think the best thing to do is simply remind you that I'm your mum and I love you very much. You mean the world to me and your birth made our little family feel complete. All our lives seem to revolve around you, not just your dad and I, but your 'Uncles' as well. Your godfather can't seem to go a day without playing with you. The two of you are quite cute together - but I'm sure you know this as he's the one raising you and he's been going through a photo fetish stage. We have all been inundated by pictures of Padfoot and his pup. He's probably been embarrassing you for years with some of those photos! The bath time ones make us all smile, but I do apologize for not stopping your father from taking the ones of Sirius changing your nappy. They snuck that one by me and I can't find the pictures. Sorry munchkin - if he hasn't teased you with them yet, start searching. It would be just like him to save them for your first girlfriend. I know Sirius is not a very 'serious' person, but I hope he's been a great substitute dad for you - I have no doubt that he loves you just as much as your dad and I do. I've asked Remus to try and provide some commonsense grounding if the worst happens. In my opinion, he's the most sensible of the Marauders. Peter hasn't been around as much. James and Sirius tend to be blind to change, but I suspect that the years will pull him even further away and into his own life. I doubt you even know your Uncle Peter anymore, but that is only my own idea of the future, I could be wrong. Your dad insists that the four of them will be together as old men! _

_Well, enough of this, I'm starting to ramble munchkin-mine. The boxes here in the vault are full of all the things I was too embarrassed to put into the Potter Family Vault and some personal things. I know it's silly of me, but that place seems just too formal to store a box full of stuffed animals your daddy won for me at various village fairs. Yes, one of these boxes does indeed hold tacky prizes from fairs. I'm too sentimental to toss them away this early in our marriage and too embarrassed at the idea of future, possibly stuffy, Potters stumbling onto them. I'm counting on you munchkin, to go through these boxes full of the silly nic-nacs I didn't want to lose if the house was destroyed. There isn't anything truly valuable from a monetary viewpoint, all of that was moved to the main vault, but I hope these provide you with some laughs and maybe help you know your mum and dad better than the stories Sirius and Remus tell you. You're now tugging on my skirt with that little grin of yours that says you want my attention, so I'm closing to go play with you -- my adorable baby boy -- and hope you never read this letter. _

_All my love,_

_Your Mum - Lily._

_PS - I hope you like the picture, munchkin. I don't think Sirius has a copy of this one and it's one of my favorites of us four._

Harry's face was covered in tears as he finished reading the letter for the second time. The diary had been wonderful, but it was very much Lily talking to Lily. This was his MUM talking to Harry, her son. To him directly. He finally had a moment where someone said they loved him. He'd thought his parents had loved him -- he'd hoped they had - but now he knew for sure. Not only did they love him, they liked to be with him, play with him. He had been important to them. _My mum called me munchkin_, he smiled through his tears. The man in the picture must be his godfather, Sirius. He looked again at the image and found they had shifted. Baby Harry had moved into his father's lap where he lay cradled in one arm against his dad's chest. Throat tight, he watched his dad's fingers sift through his baby self's hair and then stroke his cheek. The look on his dad's face while he smiled down at him…Harry didn't breath for several seconds.

Following an impulse, Harry got up and found a box labeled 'Fair Animals'. Sure enough, once he opened it he found several stuffed animals. He smiled. He'd always wanted a stuffed toy, now he could have one that his dad had won for his mum. He could ask the goblins to make it so muggles couldn't see it, just like the moneybag. Then nobody could take it away. His eye was caught by a fat fuzzy grey hippo. Something in its face made him smile. He pulled it out of the box, replaced the lid and returned to his spot on the floor, cuddling it close. Harry dried his wet cheeks by rubbing them on the hippo's large snout. He cried a little more and found the hippo to be nicely absorbent and cushy.

He ended up curled in a ball on the stone floor, head resting on his hippo with the photo and letter next to him, Harry's finger traced his mothers writing. He had a lot more questions to add to his list. Where was his godfather, Sirius? Why wasn't he with him? Why did they put everything in the banks vaults? Why was she talking about the house being destroyed? Something really odd must have gone on for her to even think of writing the letter.

Harry thought about the parchment upstairs and how they had wanted him out of the way to talk about it. The words he'd seen made it sound like his dad had been a Lord, someone with a title, and that Harry would have that title someday. He remembered it said that the Potter Regent was Sirius Black, Lord Black. Was that his godfather Sirius that his mum talked about in the letter and the same Sirius Black from the diary? The last line said something about Harry being a Regent, but that didn't make sense… how could a little boy be a Regent, whatever that was?

Griphook said that he should have clothes like Draco's because their positions in society were similar. Draco had said that one of the reasons people would want to try and control him was his families wealth and position… it sounded like Harry had money and position just like Draco, only he'd never known about it. Harry sighed and sat up cuddling the toy. He wished Draco were there to explain some of this to him or just sit with him and make him feel better. He couldn't seem to think straight and his head ached a bit from crying.

He pulled the satchel over from where he'd dropped it after putting away his notebook. It took a few moments to locate his lunch then Harry poured himself a cup of milk and ate his spare sandwich half. The break worked. By the time he was done snacking, he felt calm again. He didn't know enough to make any kind of plan beyond asking questions, but if he was like Draco, then he needed to be cautious just like Draco said so he didn't end up agreeing to something he didn't want. He had to pay attention and be careful until he understood what was happening, and what had happened. It sounded like there was an awful lot his Aunt and Uncle hadn't told him. He reminded himself that Aunt Petunia had said there were things she wouldn't tell him until he was older. Maybe all this money and title stuff was part of it and not just magic. It was nice to know about it, but really, he was only 8. It's not like he could do anything with it until he grew up. Harry was already far into the process of talking himself into forgiving his Aunt for not telling him.

After folding the letter carefully and putting it back in the envelope with the picture, Harry dug in his satchel until he found his mum's diary. The envelope was tucked inside the front cover to keep it safe, then the diary and moneybag were safely stowed away with the remains of his lunch. He knew he'd be reading that letter over and over; but now it was time to go upstairs and find the answers. The boxes could wait for another day when he had lots of time to spend. Rising and dusting off his behind, Harry slung his satchel across his chest, stuck his hippo under his arm and walked to the vault doorway. He could see Griphook reading over a parchment and making notes and corrections.

"Hi Griphook."

The goblin looked up. "Are you done in the vault?" He glanced at the toy, but said nothing.

"Yes. Does the door lock by itself or do I need to use the key?" The boy held the key out in his hand.

"It will lock on its own. Simply close the door and keep the key somewhere safe."

Harry moved onto the platform, put the key in a pocket of his satchel, then turned and closed the door behind him. When he turned back, Griphook had put away his parchment and was readying the cart for their return trip.

"Griphook? When did my dad become Lord Potter? Was he good at it?" Harry decided to take a shot in the dark and confirm this part before they got back to the meeting. His Aunt always said you learned more when people thought you knew some or most of it already.

"He was young, although not as young as you. He was in his last years at Hogwarts. The times were turbulent, but he did well enough for his age and experience. He left things in good condition for you, his heir. In the end, perhaps that is all anyone can do."

He shrugged with a goblin's pragmatism and focus on financial issues then motioned for Harry to take his seat. Showing a surprising amount of sensitivity, or maybe just recognition of the crying sounds he'd heard from the vault, the cart returned via the direct route. Harry wasn't really in the mood for a joy-ride and this trip was much quieter than the first.

Upon arriving back at the cavern leading to the offices, Griphook brought up the moneybag as he helped the boy out of the cart.

"I should show you how to work the moneybag before we return to the office."

Harry retrieved the bag from his satchel and looked over expectantly.

"If you open the bag, you will notice the extra thickness along the top inside rim. You should be able to see and feel images for the different coins inside the bag. Press one of these for a moment, and then when you reach into the bag you will only find those coins. To change coins, simply press a different image. Alternatively, you can say the name of the coin, like Galleon or Sickle."

Harry played with it for a few moments and slowly began to smile. It was fun, and he liked how easy it was and how he didn't have to search around for the coin he wanted.

"Can I put muggle money in here?"

"Yes. The current display is due to your having only one type of currency inside. Once you add another currency, the first display will change to represent the currencies. Once you choose a currency, the display will change to show what's available within that currency. You can test it once you have exchanged the Galleons for muggle Pounds Sterling. To identify our currency, the word is 'Gringotts' and the image is a set of scales. A circle image will take you back to the initial currency display. Be sure to test it out thoroughly before you leave today to be sure you will have no difficulties moving back and forth."

"Okay, thanks Griphook. I really like the bag, it's lots of fun actually."

The goblin nodded. Most young humans did enjoy the bags, although few ever mentioned it to the goblins.

"Hood, young Master." He reminded.

Harry flipped his hood back up and followed Griphook down the corridor. When they returned to the meeting room, he was surprised to find that several of the goblins had left and only Swiftrock and two others remained.

**EOC**

**AN:** Chapter is broken up into two entries - it was just too long. I've only another page before the last part of this chapter is finished, then some edits and it will be posted. SORRY! I hate breaking up chapters, but didn't realize I was off by 10… kept thinking this chapter started at 137 when it was 127. I'm a stubborn idiot who kept focusing on the chapter ending at a specific scene vs paying attention to how long and unwieldy it was getting.

I about died trying to get thru the monster for a continuity check and I'm not about to inflict that on you all! So, here's the update and the next will follow soon.


	14. Chpt 14: Paradigm shifts for all…Part 2

**Chapter 14 - Paradigm shifts for all…Part 2**

After escorting Harry to a chair, Griphook moved to the head of the table to speak with Swiftrock. Harry watched them while he slid his satchel to the floor next to the chair, put his hippo next to it and tried to decide if he should take off his cloak or not. He felt silly keeping it on inside, but he was more than a little embarrassed by the costume he was wearing underneath. The older goblin appeared to be asking questions; Griphook was showing him his copy of Harry's list and the notes he had been working on when Harry came out of the Vault.

Swiftrock, distracted by the child simply standing there, rested his eyes on Harry before he spoke. "Is something wrong Mr. Potter? You may remove your cloak and take your seat. We will begin shortly."

After chewing on his lip and shuffling his feet, Harry decided he might as well tell them. They'd see the horrid thing anyway.

"Well, the cloaks the only wizard clothes I have right now. I didn't want to just wear muggle clothes and then stand out and have everyone look at me oddly, so I found a Halloween costume that looked a bit like what I read about wizard robes. I think it looks right stupid, but it was the best I could do, and it's somewhat embarrassing for you all to see me in it. I know it's silly." He added softly.

The goblin across the table spoke up. "I do not think it silly to wish to be properly dressed when meeting the team managing your family's accounts. I believe we all understand that living as you have in the muggle world, there hasn't been an opportunity to acquire proper attire."

Swiftrock broke in. "Indeed. You have taken action to resolve the problem at the first opportunity available to you." He glanced at the other goblins. "Mr. Potter has appointed Griphook to arrange two sets of clothing appropriate to his station as well as reading materials to begin his education as an heir to a magical House. He even supplied a list of books, quite an appropriate list." He added pointedly.

An expression of surprise crossed the other two goblins faces as they turned to look at the child. Harry thought it was best to say nothing, so he quietly removed the cloak and laid it across the back of his chair. A light blush over his cheeks, he raised his eyes to the room.

"Not a bad choice Mr. Potter. Somewhat old fashioned and of an odd fabric, but it wouldn't have drawn a great deal of attention. If you are comfortable in the muggle clothes underneath, feel free to remove the costume before taking your seat." Swiftrock nodded to Harry before turning back to Griphook.

"You are authorized to contact Wila to manage the library search. Your plan is sufficient. You may return here once you are certain the tasks are at a point where you are comfortable turning them over to the clerks for completion." He paused and exchanged looks with the other two goblins before turning back to the waiting junior. "Well done, Griphook. You are excused."

Griphook bowed deeply to his supervisors. Harry had removed his costume and watched as Griphook straightened and left the room. He couldn't help but notice that he'd seemed awfully pleased.

Swiftrock gestured to Harry, and he took his seat at the table. "Did you complete your business at the vault?"

"Most of it, yes. I still need to exchange some galleons for pounds before I leave and, well…" Harry reached down and retrieved his hippo, placing it on the table. "I wanted to take this with me. Griphook told me about the charms on the moneybags so that muggles won't see them or be able to steal them. Could someone put charms like that on this? When I get home I don't want anyone else to be able to see him or take him away."

"You want us to put protection charms on a cheap stuffed toy?" The middle goblin spoke incredulously.

As Harry stared down at his hands, instinct came to the fore and he instantly knew it was important he didn't appear weak. If he didn't demand respect, they'd never give it to him and he'd fail at being a Lord, one just like his dad was, before he'd even gotten started. He may be a little boy, but they couldn't treat him like one, he knew that deep inside like one of those clicks Draco'd talked about. He remembered how Draco had behaved in the Alley, and he could almost hear his voice in his mind as he'd told him about the act he was expected to use because of his rank, a rank Harry now knew he shared. Although he was scared inside, he put on the mask he used with Uncle Vernon and remembered how Draco spoke.

Face calm, he raised his head to gaze impassively at the goblin and tried his best to mimic Draco's posh tone. "No, I'd like you to put protection charms on a sentimental gift my father gave to my mother. It's the only thing I've ever had that was theirs together and I don't want anything to happen to it when I take it home. My cousin doesn't always respect other people's things and I'd rather not take chances."

Swiftrock cleared his throat loudly and everyone turned toward the head of the table. The goblin's gaze evaluated the boy for a few moments. Harry's face never changed while inside he thanked every moment of practice he'd had standing in front of his Uncle. Swiftrock's eyes glinted with something Harry couldn't identify. "That will not be a problem, Mr. Potter. The charms will be placed before you leave. This does bring up a topic that we would like to discuss with you later, perhaps over lunch."

"Alright." Harry nodded. "Where do you think we should begin? The list on the parchment?"

Swiftrock declined Harry's suggestion. "There are other area's we should cover first. I was not aware your muggle relatives knew your mother's vault information."

Harry said nothing. He didn't really know what to say, and staying quiet had always worked well for him.

"Has your Aunt told you much about the magical world or your family?"

"No."

"Did she give you the vault number?"

"No."

The goblins all shifted and looked at each other. Swiftrock finally sighed and leaned forward.

"How did you find the vault information?"

"My mum wrote it down." Harry worked at keeping his 'Vernon' face on, but he wanted to laugh at the goblin's frustration with his short answers. He wasn't normally a vindictive child, but the one goblin's dig about the hippo hit him hard, coming as it did after the emotional time in the vault, and a part of him didn't want to make anything easy for them. These goblins weren't Griphook, who had answered his questions, helped him, talked to him nicely and said nothing about Harry crying. These goblins were the ones that sent him out of the room so they could talk about him. Although quite often mature for his age, he was following an urge that definitely belonged to an eight year olds sensibilities.

"It must have been difficult finding the bank and Diagon Alley. Did you have help from your Aunt or perhaps someone else who told you about the magical world? Or, was everything written down with your mothers vault information?"

Harry smiled. Swiftrock reminded him of Aunt Petunia when she was using her favorite gossip digging method. She called it going fishing. He decided to end the game.

He tilted his head. "Why don't you just ask me?"

"I am asking you, Mr. Potter."

"No, you're going round and round, fishing for information. You're looking for something specific; you want to know if I know something. Rather than trying to find out if I know, why don't you just be honest with me and tell me what's really going on. Ask me flat out, it involves me after all. I may be young and small, but I'm not stupid. Size has nothing to do with smarts - I would have thought goblins of all people would know that."

The middle goblin snorted, the end one snickered behind his hand, and Swiftrock grimaced and nodded. "Yes, well, we thought it might be best to see what you already knew, your sources, and then build on that. It appears I was wrong." He sighed. "Have you ever heard the phrase The Boy Who Lived?"

Harry shook his head no.

"The Dark Lord?"

"No, not that one either."

"We'll start at the beginning then. This may sound fantastical, Mr. Potter, but trust us, it is true. Much of this is in history books."

Harry sat quietly listening, slowly becoming numb as he was told a story about a Dark Lord who started a war and the supposed savior of the Wizarding world, The-Boy-Who-Lived. At least now he knew why his parents had moved everything into the vaults to keep it safe.

After Swiftrock finished, Harry found himself thinking that Aunt Petunia was right. He was too young to know this, to know his mum and dad were murdered on purpose and that people wanted to kill him, Harry. He wished he didn't know, that he wasn't scared… but it was too late for that. He stared at the hippo, desperately wanting to pull it off the table and clutch it closely. He didn't dare, that would really make him look like a baby - he might as well put one of those sucky things in his mouth.

He cleared his throat in the hopes his voice wouldn't quaver. "What happened to my godfather, Sirius? Why aren't I with him?" He thought of the dark haired man who'd hugged him in the photo. Very quietly he asked, "Did he die too?"

"Your godfather, Lord Black, is in Azkaban, the wizard prison on an island up North."

Harry couldn't keep the surprise off his face. "Why? What did he do?"

"That is uncertain. He was accused and sent to Azkaban, but from everything we, and the previous Lord Black, were able to ascertain, he was never tried and convicted. When the then Lord Black tried to interfere, he was blocked at the highest levels of government. His health failed and he was unable to use his influence properly. He used his remaining energy to safeguard the estate for his heir and his heir's heir."

"They can do that? Just lock someone up and never give them a trial? That's illegal in the U.K., isn't it? Don't magical people have to follow the laws?" Harry was shocked. It distracted him from his earlier fear.

"There are different laws for the magical community, but keeping someone locked up without a trial is also illegal under our laws."

"How can there be different laws? We're still in the U.K.!"

"The magical community separated itself many centuries ago. There is a separate government, law enforcement, banking… everything. Most magicals live in homes and communities that cannot even be found by muggles. There is no one to enforce muggle law and the magical government ignores advances and changes in muggle society. Wizards and witches are completely ignorant of muggle law and the rights British muggles enjoy that they do not. We do need special laws to account for magic, but we goblins have noticed that, as the years pass, more and more muggle raised are showing dissatisfaction with some of the archaic legal structures. There are times when magical human laws seem to show a distinct lack of common sense."

"That's….." Harry didn't know what it was, but he knew he didn't like it. Wait a minute…

"You said that it was illegal here too, so why is he still locked up?"

"Somehow, the commonly held belief is that he was tried and convicted, even though there is no evidence of a trial, no records at the ministry and no one who claims to have actually been present at a trial. There has been no one to wield the power of the family and speak for him, to push beyond those working to keep him imprisoned."

Harry gnawed on his lip. This all sounded way over his head. "What do they say he did?"

Again, all the goblins looked at each other. Swiftrock straightened the papers on the table. "They claim he betrayed your family to the Dark Lord, that he is responsible for your parent's deaths and that he killed another friend, Peter Pettigrew and a dozen muggles when confronted."

Harry paled, and this time he did pull the hippo onto its back in his lap where he tightly gripped its stubby legs and stared down at the grey fuzz. His dad's best friend? He wanted Bran, or Miss Matson, or even Aunt Petunia. He wanted someone. He wondered what that loud sound was and realized it was his own fast breathing. Swallowing over and over, he worked to slow his breathing back to normal.

"Di…Did he?" Asking that question had to be one of the hardest things Harry had ever done. All he could think of was his mum's diary always talking about Sirius & James, James & Sirius, and it was always the two of them, together… and how she talked about him in her letter and the picture of the man sitting next to his dad and how they had played together with baby Harry.

Swiftrock spoke gently. "Harry."

He looked up -- face bleak.

"We do not believe that he did. If he were guilty, they would have published the trial details everywhere. There would be no reason to pretend there had been a trial if it would have backed up the gossip and claims. It makes no sense, especially combined with the strength of the bond between your father and Sirius Black, and even yourself. We believe it suits various people's purposes to have him out of the way."

Harry stayed silent, not yet trusting himself to speak, although he felt a little better that they thought his godfather hadn't killed his dad and mum. He was feeling quite overwhelmed.

The goblins all looked significantly at Harry. "Peter Pettigrew's will has never been activated."

The confusion on the child's face was obvious and spurred the younger goblin to speak.

"The lad has no idea of what that means, he's been raised a muggle. We must be specific."

Swiftrock nodded. "Gringotts takes client confidentiality very seriously Harry. The business of one client is never passed on to another and it rarely leaves the account management staff assigned to the client. But, there are some pieces of information that fall within the realm of publicly available knowledge and we can pass along that information and draw conclusions from the contents. I can see how that would be difficult for you, not knowing much about magical society."

He paused and caught Harry's eyes. "In our world, a will is a magical contract that is activated when someone dies, when their soul separates from the body permanently. When a will activates, it is read and followed. The triggering of that process is a matter of the public record, although the details of a will are private."

They sat back and stared expectantly at Harry.

He thought about what he'd said. There was something they wanted him to know, but it sounded like they couldn't say it because of confidentiality; he had to figure it out on his own. It took him a few minutes to push back the fear and confusion so he could concentrate. Once he was concentrating, it didn't take long before he understood. He looked up with a large smile.

"If his will hasn't been activated and read, then he must not be dead. If he's not dead, then Sirius didn't kill him, and if that's wrong, then there's a good chance it's ALL wrong! Right?"

Swiftrock smiled and nodded. "Exactly young Master Potter. Exactly. Once the idea of Pettigrew being alive is added, we must also wonder why he is hiding. Why is he afraid of being questioned? We, and the Black Estate team, believe he holds the information that would clear your godfather."

Harry felt a huge weight lift. Sirius may be in jail, but they didn't think his dad's best friend had killed he and his mum and there was something real that supported that idea.

Swiftrock's tone lightened and he tapped the papers on the table.

"I believe we have discussed enough weighty topics for now. We will have lunch here and speak of the pleasanter aspects of your inheritance. We will return to heavier issues this afternoon. Do you agree?"

Harry nodded; he could do with a break. After gawking at the house elf Swiftrock called to bring lunch, Harry put hippo on the floor, retrieved his satchel and began setting out his own lunch.

"Mr. Potter, we have called for lunch. It will be here shortly." Swiftrock smiled at him.

"Alright." He finished organizing his baggies and closed his satchel.

The middle goblin spoke up. "That includes lunch for you, lad."

"Oh…" Harry looked at the table. "Well, my Aunt packed me this, I really should eat it. I've been snacking on it this morning, so I can eat some of both. Would that be alright? My Aunts kinda picky about what I eat. I'm supposed to have lots of fruit and vegetables and I've already had something today I'm not supposed to."

"You may eat whatever you like."

"Thank you. What was your name?"

"I am Greldac." Harry turned his head to look at the third goblin. "I am Stonefist."

"Nice to meet you. You can all call me Harry."

A group of elves appeared and with snaps of their fingers, the table was quickly set and a lovely lunch appeared.

"What did you eat today Harry, that you weren't supposed to?"

"I had a fizzy drink at the train station." He wrinkled his nose. "It was nice at first, but really sweet and I couldn't finish it." He poured his milk into a glass provided by the elves.

"You aren't allowed that muggle beverage?"

Harry began transferring items from his baggies onto the plate the elves had given him.

"No. I'm only supposed to drink milk or water. Sometimes I get a little fruit juice or lemonade, but not often. Aunt Petunia says that since I'm small, I need to make sure and only eat things that are healthy so I can grow." He sighed heavily, with all of a child's weariness at grown-up strictures, causing Swiftrock to hide a smile by looking down. "She's very particular about me drinking milk; my thermos has to be empty when I get home."

He pointed to his plate and shrugged. "This is the kind of stuff I'm supposed to eat. I don't mind, I like it." He picked up half of his ham and cheese sandwich, looked around the table and smiled. The goblins were having ham as well. He preferred his. It was leftover from dinner and Aunt Petunia had put on the really good mustard and his favorite cheese. He checked to see what else they had that he might like. They didn't have many vegetables and there were several things he didn't recognize, but he was allowed nuts.

"Are those almonds?"

Stonefist nodded and passed them to Harry. "Would you like to try your pumpkin juice? I understand it is very popular among schoolchildren."

Harry obediently took a sip of the orange liquid in the goblet by his plate. He couldn't stop from wrinkling his nose and put the cup down quickly. "That's awfully sweet, much sweeter than that fizzy was." Suddenly embarrassed, he looked around at the goblins; he hoped he hadn't insulted someone. "I'm sorry; I'm not used to sweet things."

Swiftrock laughed. "No need to apologize, Harry. We goblins feel the same way about pumpkin juice. Most human children we've seen like sweets, it does not bother us that you do not." He called for more milk for Harry and they settled in to eating and talking about the Potter family inheritance.

Harry learned that over the last several generations, the Potter family had gotten smaller -- the main branch was down to Harry -- so he had inherited all the different houses and flats around the world that all those people used to live in. He had enough money not to worry about ever having a job or profession, indeed, Swiftrock felt that his job as an adult would be overseeing the family investments, businesses and properties. He had a trust vault in addition to family vaults, but he couldn't access the family vaults without officially claiming Lordship of House Potter. That would happen automatically when he came of age at 17, but he could claim it early. Except they said he shouldn't, there were _issues_.

It seemed there was this man named Dumbledore. He was the headmaster of Hogwarts, and Harry remembered his mum mentioning him in her diary. It also seemed that he had been trying to take control of the Potter family finances. He had a lot of power through the magical government - the Ministry, the Wizengamut, the International Confederation of Wizards -- and he had an inordinate amount of interest in Harry and control over his life. He'd been the one to place Harry with his Aunt instead of with some of the magical people listed in his parents' wills. Dumbledore had made a fuss saying Harry had to be with blood relatives and he wouldn't say where Harry was so they couldn't change it, and he used his power in the government to make sure nobody tried to force him to tell.

Dumbledore had also been trying to take over as the Potter Regent. Seems a Regent was someone who oversaw things when the real person couldn't. Harry's Regent while he was underage was his godfather. Since he was still alive, the magic wouldn't accept anyone else. That was something else they explained. In the muggle world, being a Regent was just something legal on paper, but here it was a magical appointment. Dumbledore hadn't been able to get around the magic and make it recognize him. They said that the previous Lord Black, Sirius' grandfather, had helped out in protecting Harry's inheritance because Harry was also a Black through his paternal grandmother. When he died two years ago, things had gotten worse and Dumbledore had been able to gain oversight of Harry's Trust vault because it was for school expenses as well as personal spending. If Harry accessed his trust, Dumbledore would find out, same as if he became Lord.

They didn't trust Dumbledore; it seemed there were some odd entries for Harry's trust. Swiftrock had only been able to make sure every withdrawal was documented with a valid sounding explanation, but he wasn't able to verify the explanations without Harry himself or his Regent to lend the extra authority. They wanted to go over the suspect transactions with Harry in detail at the next meeting, but wanted a cap set on the account today just in case. After making sure the cap wouldn't apply to Harry himself, he signed the form and asked why Dumbledore was involved.

Swiftrock said he didn't want to overwhelm Harry with too much information all at once that he wouldn't remember, especially since they had more time sensitive things to talk about, but he said it was really important that Dumbledore not find out about Harry's visit or that Harry now knew about the magical world and his family legacy. He said the details could wait a few weeks for another visit, but Harry shouldn't tell anyone he'd been to Gringotts, especially his family if they didn't already know.

While Harry tried to make sense of everything he'd been told, the elves returned and cleared the lunch dishes from the table. Swiftrock began moving some papers and things from the desk over to the table so Harry took the opportunity to visit the loo. Everyone settled down once Harry returned. Stonefist quite nicely charmed his hippo and temporarily shrunk him until 8pm that night and Harry was able to fit hippo easily into his satchel. Then things got a little sticky.

"Harry, there is something serious we must discuss. Because of your situation, I'm sure you understand that it will not be safe for you to move about alone in the magical world, especially Diagon Alley. If you were seen by a follower of The Dark Lord, it could be disastrous. They might attempt to harm you, kidnap you, or simply follow you home so they could harm you at a later date. You must not put yourself in any situation where a Death Eater could have access to you or find your home. We also do not want agents of Dumbledore's to notice you moving about."

After chewing on his lip, Harry reluctantly agreed. He could see that, after all, the Death Eaters did want him dead; he shouldn't make it easy for them by wandering around alone exactly where they were likely to be.

"All right, but if I can't come to Diagon Alley, how do I meet with you again or get into my mum's vault?"

"We have a special portkey here." Swiftrock gestured at the small boxes on the table. "You will wear it at all times. It can be used in an emergency to escape, or simply to come here for a meeting."

"What's a portkey?"

"A magical transportation device. It will bring you to a secured antechamber in my offices and you will be escorted here. No one will be able to see it, nor will anyone be able to remove it. Not even you."

As he'd been speaking, Swiftrock had retrieved a pendant necklace from the box and was holding it out to Harry.

The child simply sat and stared.

"Ummm, it really can't be removed… even by ME?"

"Correct." He held it further towards Harry, and Harry leaned back a bit away from it.

"Do I have too?" There was a slight note of dread in the child's voice.

They were all confused by his reaction.

"It is for your own protection, it's just a portkey. Many humans carry them. They are immanently useful in escaping dangerous situations before they become life threatening. Personal portkeys are quite common; the only difference here is that it brings you to the bank instead of a safe house. If you are ever in need of medical care or in danger, this could save your life. As you live in the muggle world separate from all things magical, no one will expect you to have one."

"But it can't come off… and what if …" Harry felt trapped. "You've just been telling me how many people want to hurt me and now you want me to put some magical thing around my neck that won't ever come off. What if it does something bad? I mean, I don't know you…"

Swiftrock and Stonefist began bristling, but Greldac grinned one of those horrible toothy grins and chuckled.

"He's right."

Everyone's eyes focused on Greldac. "The lad is right to be cautious." He looked at Swiftrock, "You wouldn't want him willing to accept magical devices from everyone who offered one and claimed it was for his benefit! He was raised muggle, he doesn't know."

"What don't I know?" Harry was now curious, but glad someone saw his view.

Greldac leant forward. "Our wellbeing is tied to yours. We need you to stay safe, alive, and well. We need you to grow up, marry, and have children to carry on the family and maintain the accounts here in Britain. We would never do anything to harm you, lad. To do so would jeopardize our jobs, our futures, our families, and the future of every Goblin working on the Potter accounts in this country."

That made Harry sit up and think. He'd no idea that others depended on HIM for their income; that idea was, well, daunting…but it didn't make sense. If Harry was gone, the money would still be there, it would just belong to someone else.

As the boy still looked a bit confused, Swiftrock took over the explanation.

"If something were to happen to you Harry, the next in line to inherit the Potter accounts is a very distant relative of yours named Huan-Jin Potter. It's quite the coincidence that the two of you have the same initials. He lives in Asia, a member of a branch that moved there centuries ago. If he were to inherit, the main accounts -- and their management -- would be moved to Asia, leaving only minor ancillary accounts here to maintain the British properties. The accounts would go, but not the staff. Most of us would lose our jobs to our counterparts in Asia that currently work with Huan-Jin. We would not be welcomed on other accounts here, except at the most menial levels."

He waited a few moments to let that sink in. "It is in our best interests to protect you during your childhood until you are able to do so yourself. That will always be our goal." He gestured to the portkey. "This ensures that you can always come to us where we can protect you if something happens. It cannot be removed so that no one can remove your protection, not even yourself. There are magical ways to force you to remove the pendant, this safeguards you from that."

Spending years eavesdropping on Uncle Vernon's business talk, gave Harry an understanding of what they meant. It sounded like that sales contract last year, when another salesman lost a big account to a company in France and some people lost their jobs in Surrey because the work was gone. He sighed; he guessed he could trust them. They weren't helping because they liked him, but they did need him around and that was probably more reliable than someone liking him.

He slowly reached out and took the pendant. They spent the next few minutes teaching him the activation codes before he placed it around his neck and tucked it inside his shirt. He thought he could see them all relax a bit.

"Remember Harry. It's best if you never use it where muggles will see. You should use careful judgment. Do not use it to escape a schoolboy fracas, but if a situation turns dire, it is better to make up explanations later, than to risk not being alive to explain at all. Choose your return location carefully before you set it. Tempting as it may be to use your room at home, please do not. It is likely that the wards are set to notify Dumbledore, or the ministry, of portkey usage and we wish to avoid their notice. Part of the reason this portkey will be so useful as a safety device, is that nobody expects you to have it. If it became known, that benefit would be gone."

"So I need to pick somewhere out of sight, near home, but not too close, right?"

"Yes, then once you set that location; the portkey will return you there every time."

"Okay, I know just the spot." And Harry did. In an alley around the corner, there was a nook between a fence and garage. He used to hide there from Dudley.

"Now that that is settled, we have a couple more safety issues to discuss. We spoke of the followers of the Dark Lord; you do understand that you must do your best to avoid a Death Eater?"

Harry nodded, "Yes, I said I would."

"Then you will agree that you must avoid Draco Malfoy."

"Why? He's just a boy -- he's my age. There's no way he could have been a Death Eater!"

"Obviously, he himself was not, but his father was -- although he managed to stay free -- and his Aunt and Uncle definitely were and are now in Azkaban. The Lestrange's are very well known Death Eaters."

Harry tilted his head as he spoke to Swiftrock. "He shouldn't be blamed for what his father did."

"He is not a safe companion and is to be avoided at all costs. He will likely grow up to be as his father, with the same beliefs, and he will be your enemy. Even now, he must be telling his father all about how he met the famous Boy-Who-Lived. And Lucius Malfoy will not miss a chance to advance himself. He may do nothing now, but he would the moment he could gain an advantage from handing you over to those who would do you harm. We also believe Lord Malfoy to be one of those working to keep Sirius Black in Azkaban, for reasons we will discuss later."

The look on Harry's face was one that Sophie would have recognized. It would also be familiar to Mrs. Browne and other adults, although they seemed to make the same mistake Swiftrock was about to make, they fell for it. Harry was an expert at letting adult's expectations and assumptions do his lying for him.

He smiled and nodded as he responded, "I see. I should probably tell you that I never got around to telling my name. He doesn't know I'm the Boy Who Lived. But I understand."

He truly did understand their point -- he simply had no intention of doing what they said. He wasn't going to lose his first friend just because Draco's dad was a jerk. He and Draco had already talked about avoiding his dad because then he'd see Harry was like Draco.

"I'll do my best to stay away from Death Eaters."

Yes, he would stay far away from Lucius Malfoy. He just hoped Draco understood about the whole being famous bit. He also hoped Draco wasn't like they said. He didn't think so, after all, he met Harry on the other side and he knew he had muggle relatives. The snake said he smelled balanced, just like Harry. Draco didn't seem to care about all that blood stuff. All he cared about was that they were the same -- magic wise -- and how they were supposed to be friends.

Harry wasn't going to lose his only friend just because grownups didn't like it; he and Draco had a club and everything!

While he was thinking about Draco, they started up on the next safety issue. They wanted him to move out of the Dursleys next week and into a house they had prepared for him. Since he wasn't supposed to be there anyway, the goblins all thought it made sense for him to leave and go somewhere they could use better protections. The Dursley home was too visible and open, with people coming and going all the time.

Harry was stunned into silence, unknowingly somewhat similar to his Uncle Vernon earlier that morning. Swiftrock continued describing what he believed to be Harry's new home. Also somewhat similar to how Petunia had kept speaking, thinking Vernon's silence meant agreement. Like Petunia, Swiftrock was due to be surprised, but unlike Petunia, he wasn't going to win.

He told Harry all about the house; he called it The Hunting Lodge. It would be very safe because it hadn't been used since his great-great-great-grandfather's time so people had forgotten about it and it was in a very remote part of Wales. They had put many special wards up around the house and grounds, including what they called a Fidelius that would mean nobody could find it unless Swiftrock told them where it was. They said nobody could make a goblin talk if they didn't want to and they wouldn't want to because they and their families well being was tied to Harry's. Besides, nobody would suspect what they had done as everyone would think he was still with the muggles.

The Lodge had house elves to take care of him and they would even provide a tutor three days a week to oversee his education until he went to boarding school at 11. They went on and on about how it would be better for him to live in a Potter home surrounded by magic, but all Harry could think of was he didn't want to leave his Aunt, especially since they were getting along now. If he left, he wouldn't see the garden with all the things they wanted to plant next year. They were going to work on the plans this winter. If he left, he wouldn't hear any more stories about his grandfather Evans. No more Sunday's with just the two of them chatting while they worked. And what about those kids that were being nicer to him this year, the boy in his class that he hoped would become his friend? The Lodge sounded cool, but Harry would be alone. No kids to play with at school or the playground -- and no Aunt. Just Harry and a bunch of elves.

These thoughts tugged something in his memory and he could hear Draco's voice saying how his dad controlled people. That 'divide and conquer' bit that Draco said meant that people alone were easier to control. Harry felt a chill run up his spine. This was the kind of situation Draco warned him about.

"No thank you, sir."

The goblin paused mid-sentence. "What did you say lad?"

Harry started speaking quickly and used one of his Aunt's favorite ploys - redirection.

"No thank you. I don't want to move, although I wouldn't mind visiting The Lodge. But I'll stay where I am. It's been safe so far right? There must be some of those ward protections you talked about already there right? When Dumbledore left me there, he would have put some up, right? You can check and if there aren't, you can add them without my relatives even knowing you were there."

The goblins all looked at each other.

"This ties back to some of what we told you about Dumbledore, but we believe he has wards setup around your current home to tell him if any wizards, witches or goblins come near. We don't want him to know we are involved, so we can't go to the Dursley home."

Harry thought for a bit then he had an idea. It made him smile.

"What about elves? House elves have magic, could they check? Would Dumbledore have put up wards about elves?"

The goblins looked at each other and began to join Harry in smiling. Swiftrock laughed, a deep barking sound.

"Indeed. That would work well, wizards never think about elves and they would be able to tell us about the various wards and other magic in the area. Especially if we used some of the Potter elves, they can't be kept from you Harry, so would be able to pass through even if elf wards existed. If Dumbledore notices, the elves can say they just wanted to look in on you, their master. Yes, that would work well and not expose anything, no matter what happens."

The other two nodded and agreed. Just as it looked like they might start back on Harry moving, the door opened and Griphook came in followed by another goblin. He stopped a few feet from the table and waited to be acknowledged by Swiftrock.

"Yes Griphook?"

"Sir, the young master wished to exchange galleons for pounds sterling. I've brought a clerk to handle that transaction."

"Proceed."

Harry smiled at Griphook and began digging through his satchel for his moneybag. _Thank God, perfect timing for an interruption_! He was beginning to feel tired, he knew it hadn't really been all that long, but it sure felt like this day had been going on forever! He wanted to leave; especially now he was worried they wanted to control him, and began trying to figure out the best way to get out of this meeting and get back home where it was quiet and nobody had any startling news that would affect his life.

As his hand brushed against his mum's diary with the letter and picture hidden inside, he smiled as he remembered that not everything he'd learned today had been bad or scary. He now had a sort of memory of being cuddled by his dad and knew his mum called him munchkin and they had loved him.

The currency exchange went quickly and Harry found himself with a bundle of notes and a small pile of coins on the table in front of him.

"Griphook?"

"Yes, Master Potter?"

"The clothes and books, are they going to be ready soon?" He looked around at the other goblins. "I shouldn't stay too much longer. I have to leave enough time to get back to the train station and then the ride home; and we may have to wait a while for the right train. So, I should leave in half an hour or so or I might be late and get in trouble. Do we have a lot still to do that can't wait?"

"Griphook, Status?" Swiftrock asked.

"I chose the fabrics and placed the clothing order myself while the elves searched the libraries. A clerk is waiting at the shop and I expect him back soon with the completed order. The books are packed. Wila was gracious enough to retrieve a family owned Traveler's Bookshelf and assist in loading young Master's books. All those from existing libraries are appropriately marked and I took the liberty of marking the new books as belonging to the Lodge library. The only unfinished business was the currency exchange."

He handed some documents to Swiftrock, "Here are the transfer authorization papers for the purchases, Sir." then placed a cube on the table next to Harry. "And this is your bookshelf."

Stonefist spoke up and gestured to Swiftrock and Greldac. "Perhaps in the interest of time we three should discuss…"

"Yes. Griphook, you may stay. Take a seat and explain his bookcase to Mr. Potter."

Eyes large, the young goblin quickly took a seat and enlarged the case to its normal form, a smallish three shelf unit perfect for a tabletop. While the other goblins mumbled together, he instructed Harry to prick his thumb and press it into the emblem on the front, then state his name. This would set the case's ownership to Harry and only he would be able to use it from then on, an important safety feature for someone who may want to travel with expensive books.

They went through the commands to shrink the case, enlarge it to this size, and one to give it legs so it could stand next to a desk, chair, or bed. Harry found his mood much improved after playing with his case. His favorite part, besides watching it grow legs, was how the shelves only showed the most recently used books, the rest were hidden away in some special magic space. There was a special index book chained to the top shelf. It listed all the books in the case. All Harry had to do was tap a listing and say 'retrieve' and the book would appear on the top shelf. This case would make it real easy to hide his magic books, he could hide the whole bookcase under a hat if he wanted to! He could keep his mum's diary in it as well.

When he put the shrunken cube into his satchel, he saw his ledger and decided to update it with the money he'd exchanged into pounds before he put it away in his moneybag. The other goblins were still talking, so he opened the ledger and began counting. He didn't really know how much he'd gotten for his 40 galleons. It seemed a lot.

Griphook slid a piece of parchment over to Harry.

"This is the amount in Pounds Sterling, if you'd rather count it later. It's an even amount, but I had the clerk include some coins in case you might need them."

Grin on his face, Harry thanked Griphook and made his entry. After putting the money in the bag, he remembered about the money he lent Draco for the guidebook. He dug the receipt out of his pocket and made that entry as well. There. He didn't think he'd spent any other money, but he'd figure it out tomorrow. He tucked both the receipt and the parchment from Griphook into the envelope Aunt Petunia had attached to the inside back cover just for that purpose.

"Mr. Potter?"

"Yes Mr. Swiftrock?"

"Just Swiftrock lad. What is that you are doing?"

"I'm updating my ledger. Aunt Petunia says I should always keep it up to date with my money, so I was putting my new money in the ledger." Frowning, he mused, "Guess I'll have to figure out a way to put galleons in here as well. I can ask on Sunday how to track two things, I don't have to tell her it's galleons."

Pleased to have a plan, he closed the ledger and put it away, then placed his satchel back on the floor.

The Goblins stared. Once again, Harry wasn't what they had been expecting.

"How long have you been keeping a ledger? And why did you start?"

"Only for a few months now. Aunt Petunia said I had to learn how to manage money. I figure she must have known about all this and wanted me to be ready when I was older. I use it to track the money I make weeding. I'm a very good weeder, three different neighbor ladies pay me to weed their flower beds!"

Harry was understandably quite proud to have three customers and to make his own money. He completely missed how horrified the goblins were at the idea of young Lord Potter working as a gardener for hire, a _laborer_.

"Well, at least you don't have to do that any longer."

"I like it! Besides, otherwise I don't have any excuse to have money and I wanted to go to the cinema a few times. I've never been and now I've got the money to go whenever I want."

Before Swiftrock could start back in, Greldac interrupted with a reminder. "Time, sir."

"Yes." He stared at Harry and then shook his head to clear his thoughts. "In the interest of time, we'll cover only the most critical issues and handle the rest with letters and in another meeting." He pushed a thin black box over to Harry. It had the scales insignia he was becoming familiar with on the top.

"This is a Gringotts letter box. It can be used for communications between you and I. The mate of this box resides on my desk. What you place in your box will appear in mine and vice versa. You lock it to yourself just as you did with the bookshelf. Any urgent questions about the box?"

"No Sir, I'll try it out later."

"Good. Moving along, next you must meet the head Potter house elf. Dasman!"

An older elf appeared. He wore a simple tunic with a crest and a blue sash across his chest. At the sight of Harry, a huge grin spread over his wizened face.

"Master Harry! It is so good to see you again!"

"This is Dasman, Harry. He is your head elf in charge of all your other elves worldwide. He also oversees the upkeep of your properties. If you have questions, he will most likely be able to answer them. He will assign your personal elves, those at the Lodge, and introduce you to the others as needed. He will answer to your summons, simply state his name with the intent to call him and he will appear. As you can guess, he knew you when you were a babe."

Harry looked over to find the old elf nodding and smiling. A small hand slowly reached out to pat Harry's arm.

"It will be good to have you back with us young Master. We have missed you."

Harry's smile grew; nobody had ever missed him before. It felt good, but strange that it was an elf he didn't even remember.

Swiftrock cleared his throat. "We are running short of time, Dasman. It would be helpful for you to stay for the next part, if you can spare the time from your duties."

The elf smiled, snapped his fingers and settled down on the small stool that appeared.

The last box on the table was pushed to Harry and opened. This one contained a ring.

"This is your heir ring; it also functions as a portkey to the various Potter properties, including the Lodge. We've already masked it so Muggles can't see it. Other magicals won't see it either, unless you've told them yourself or they are in this room when you first put it on. You can remove this one, but we recommend you do not. It won't matter since others cannot see it and, as a magical ring, it can't easily be damaged. There is no logical reason to remove it. Most heirs never do as it identifies them to the house and family magics. It will grow with you, so there are no worries about size."

Harry accepted this one without complaint. He liked it. It had a blue stone shaped like a shield with a silver sword crossways over the stone and what looked like a small animal at the shield's top. It was too small to see what the animal was. He put it on quickly. There weren't any more boxes left and he hoped this meant they were done.

"How does it work?"

"You say the activation phrase for the property. The first time you use it for each property, you must press the crest while you speak, but from then on, the phrase alone will suffice along with intent. The lodge is 'Cymru Hunting Lodge'."

"Now, another reason why it is important you meet Dasman. If you somehow accidentally trigger the portkey and end up somewhere you've never been, it is vital you immediately summon Dasman. Many properties have been closed for generations and have strong protection magics in place. It may not be safe for you to explore unaccompanied. So, if that happens, call Dasman. You should also call him if you ever portkey in front of a muggle. He can let us know and we can arrange for the muggles memory to be modified quietly".

Harry looked over and saw the elf nodding.

"Any questions about these last items?" Swiftrock shuffled through his papers in a quick review.

"No. Are we done? Can I go?"

"Not yet lad. We have one of the most important items of business left. We'll try to go as quickly as possible but we need to take a short break. The Black Estate team needs to speak with you and it will take a moment to gather them."

Suppressing a groan, he dropped his head to the table and watched Swiftrock move to his desk and push something. Dasman touched his arm and he turned, raising his head to look at the elf.

"Hi Dasman. Did you need something?"

"No sir. I just wanted to tell you goodbye Master Harry. I'll see you soon. Welcome home Sir!" and with a smile and a popping sound, he was gone. The office door opened and the goblins that had been in the room this morning returned, followed by someone carrying a package who could only be the clerk with his new wizard clothes. Harry felt a tinge of excitement. He couldn't wait to get home and see what they looked like.

The package was given to Griphook; he shrunk it and handed it to Harry, describing how he was to enlarge it once he got home. It would only take a touch and a word. The package could not be re-shrunk, but Harry was certain he could hide the clothes under the landing, behind the book box.

While the other goblins took their seats around the table, Harry prayed this wouldn't take long. He couldn't see why it should; his godfather was Lord Black, not him. Harry wasn't even a Black; he was a Potter and an Evans. He couldn't stop the groan when he saw the oldest goblin place more of those boxes in the center of the table.

'His' goblins smiled slightly. "This won't take long Harry; we can skip many of the explanations as most of these are duplicates of what you already have."

"But I'm not a Black, that's my godfather."

"True, your godfather is Lord Black, but you are a Black as well. Your paternal grandmother, Dorea, was a Black of the main line. More importantly, you are your godfather's heir, just as you are your fathers."

The older goblin sitting next to Swiftrock slid a box over to Harry. "This is your Black heir ring. You should wear it on your left hand."

"Does it work like mine, can nobody see it and is it a portkey?"

"Yes, but the portkey feature has been temporarily disabled. It would not be safe for you to access the Black properties as of yet. Many members of the Back family were followers of the Dark Lord. At this time, we cannot be certain that the properties are safe."

"Can't the elves tell you?"

"There are issues with the elves. It would take a while to explain and I am told you are under a time constraint."

Harry quickly put the ring on, then said "Right. Next meeting or in a letter. What's next?"

The goblin looked scandalized. Luckily, Swiftrock spoke up quickly in Gobbledegook and calmed him down. Harry was glad it worked, but couldn't see what made him upset. He would later discover that the Black goblins were as stuffy about protocol as the Malfoys.

Harry would have been embarrassed to realize Swiftrock was reminding the other goblin that Harry was only 8 yrs old and a little boy experiencing his first day in the magical word, an emotional, confusing and difficult day. The two account managers would speak about things later and organize the next meeting carefully to give the Black team more time.

Swiftrock brought out the piece of parchment from earlier that morning. The one that verified he was Harry, no, Harris Potter.

"Remember this parchment Harry?"

"Yes."

"I told you we would speak of it later, that time is now." He passed it over to the child.

"I'm sure now, most of that makes sense to you. We need to speak about the last line."

Looking at the parchment, he re-read everything and realized he did get most of it now… except that last line.

_Harris James Potter, age 8._

_Imminent Lord of House Potter. Potter Regent is Sirius Black, Lord Black._

_Sole Heir of James Potter, Lord Potter (deceased)_

_Sole Heir of Lily Evans Potter (deceased)_

_Designated Heir to Lord Black, House Black._

_Regent for House Black._

"How can I be a Regent? I'm just a boy. You said Regents were people who took care of things when the main person couldn't, mostly cuz they were too young. If I'm so young **I** need a Regent, how can I **be** a Regent?"

They all smiled smugly, even Griphook. "With a great deal of cunning, some trickery and a loophole in the law."

Swiftrock again cleared his throat. "The law never actually states an age requirement for the Regent; it simply states that the Regent will act when the legatee is unable to do so. It is assumed that all Regents are of age as the alternative is ludicrous and appears, on the surface, to defeat the purpose. It is assumed, never explicitly stated. Now, unless you wish to stay longer, a full explanation of the legal twists will have to wait. The how isn't very relevant at this point. What matters is that you are. The parchment never lies. Magically, you are the Black Regent and it is vital that you sign this document accepting that appointment as the Regent Black."

The other older goblin slid a document over to Harry with one of those weird quill things.

"Is there a short explanation about why this is so important?"

Surprisingly, Stonefist spoke up.

"This was done to safeguard the estate for your godfather -- if he is ever cleared -- and for yourself as his heir. The previous Lord Black, Arcturus, spent the last years of his life searching for a way to safeguard the inheritance and then implementing that plan. It was necessary, very necessary as the wolves were already gathering at the door before his death -- a fairly suspicious death at that. This has been one of the main factors saving the estate from being controlled by others, namely Lord Malfoy and the Ministry. Lord Malfoy has been trying to claim the estate for his son, Draco, as the boy's mother is a Black. Just as Dumbledore tried to make himself Regent over House Potter, so has Lucius Malfoy tried with House Black. They have failed for the same reason. The magic would not accept them. For the Potters, this was interpreted as someone else being the Regent. For the Blacks, the cause was uncertain, although there were some murmurs that the magic recognized Lucius did not have the best interests of House Black in mind. Without access to either you, or your godfather, for testing, we have not been able to verify that the plan worked and that the magic recognized you Mr. Potter as the existing Regent. That is until today. We are quite relieved to see that last line, but it is vital that you complete the appointment and close the loop. By signing, you will prevent anyone from taking over your Godfathers own inheritance, as well as what eventually will become yours if he has no other issue and designates no other heir."

The other goblin spoke up. "At this time, we believe few, if any, are aware that you are your godfather's heir. Most believe Sirius Black to have been too irresponsible to have designated an heir and created a will. No one realizes that his Grandfather, Arcturus, Lord Black, required it of him when he bypassed his own son. Arcturus personally approved you as the next heir and signed documents attesting such, especially if Sirius is never released from Azkaban. The flow of inheritance is clear and uncontestable. Lucius Malfoy is under the assumption that his son is the only Black male in this generation and that he automatically inherits after Sirius. Either Narcissa has never mentioned Dorea's marriage or she herself is unaware of the relationship with the Potters. This is another reason you must avoid the Malfoy family. If he believed you were standing in the way of his control of the Black Estate, your life would be in immediate danger."

"But if Draco's mum is a Black, isn't he closer? You know, mum vs grandmum?"

"Not really, it doesn't work that way, especially in the Black family. You are a Black by blood descending from the mainline. Narcissa, Draco's mother, comes from an ancillary line. She was only distant cousin to the old Lord -- you were Great-Nephew as Dorea was his younger sister. As well, you are the godson of the current Lord. The relationship between godparent and godchild is a special magical one, a quasi magical adoption, or appointment you might say."

"Like what was said about Sirius being my Regent?"

Yes, somewhat. When your parents died, you became the ward of Sirius Black. Since he was your godfather and had already designated you as his heir, and you come from the same branch of the family, magically you can be seen as his son. The Black family only inherits through the magical male line. Lord Malfoy is attempting to apply his own family's inheritance rules to the Black's and that will never be accepted by the family magic, regardless of whatever laws the Wizengamut may pass. If Lord Black were not your custodial godfather, things would be different, and neither you nor Draco would be in line and the heir would be an American wizard."

_Huh?_ The confusion on his face was obvious. Harry thought he'd never understand all they were saying.

"What that means, is that as far as the Black Family magic is concerned, you might as well be the legitimate blood son of Sirius, Lord Black. And, in this world, that is all that matters."

The goblins all nodded smugly. Harry felt like his head was going to explode.

"Okay, I'll sign. Do I have to use that quill? I've never used one before; I have a pen, is that alright?"

"Yes lad. Sign this document with your full name, Harris James Potter. This document should only be signed as Regent Black. If you would like to practice a moment on this spare parchment… it would be best if the Regent Black signature looked as adult as possible."

Tension was thick as Harry practiced signing until he had a version they all agreed upon. Once done, everyone relaxed and they all began congratulating each other. Harry leaned back in his chair hoping that now they were done and he could leave. What had started as an act and only partial reality had now become complete reality. He was far into that mood many parents recognize as the 'are we there yet' terrors. Information overload and emotional ups and downs had completely exhausted Harry.

"Are we done now?" He tried hard not to whine, he really did.

"Just this." Another thin box was pushed his way. "This will allow you to communicate with the Black Account Manager. It works just as the one for Potter business."

"What do I need that for? I'm too young to really do much aren't I?"

"Normally, yes, but as Regent, you have the ability to direct the accounts, as well as the Potter accounts. Something we greatly need as the Ministry has frozen the Black Estate while Lord Malfoy has been attempting to wrest control. You see, Sirius, Lord Black has the authority to direct and oversee the Potter Estate. You, as his Regent have the authority to direct the Black Estate, and through his authority, your own. He is your Regent and you are his. This allows you a small measure of control over your family business that Dumbledore cannot see, as you will be exercising it under a different name. Otherwise, you would have to wait to do so until you claimed Lordship. We, the goblins, could choose to fight this, but as it works in our favor, we will not."

The child's confusion was again obvious.

"It is more roundabout logic Harry; we will explain everything in letters you can review in quieter moments. Simply take the boxes and remember to check them regularly, at least every day at first." Swiftrock took back control of the meeting and tried to calm Harry before closing.

"Alright, it doesn't make much sense to me, but maybe the letters will. Thanks."

"You are welcome, and now, Harry, we are done. Griphook and the guards will escort you to your meeting place. Don't worry; they will wear glamours to make them appear human."

It didn't take very long, although it seemed forever to Harry, before the goodbyes were said and he was once again wearing his costume and cloak ( hood up ) and following his glamoured goblin escort. To his surprise, they stayed with him all the way to the bookstore, including the side trip to the alley to remove wizard clothes. Outside, they told him they would follow behind, without his friend's knowledge, until he left the train at his home station.

Normally, the thought of all these people following him would drive him batty, but after everything he'd learned today, he couldn't help but be a little bit glad. He was oddly nervous about running around on his own now.

OoooOoooOooo

Back in Swiftrock's office at the bank, the goblins were discussing the boy that had just left.

"His manners are atrocious!" The Black Account Manager was still in a huff.

"Simak, he is a child, only 8 years old. By the time you joined us, he had been overwhelmed. He hadn't known who he was; he knew nothing about the Dark Lord or his parent's deaths. There was simply too much information to get through." Swiftrock and Simak had clashed on how to handle today's meeting. Harry's crankiness towards the end had born out Swiftrock's opinion, making Simak cranky.

Greldac spoke up. Unlike a human adult, who would be insulted by a child talking back, the goblin had been impressed and saw that moment of fuss over the toy as a positive sign of future strength.

"He's muggle raised as well, by a family of no rank. He's had no opportunity to learn better manners. He did well enough, especially earlier. He seems bright and showed he is quite capable of standing up for himself. Although, he wasn't what I had expected."

"No, he isn't much like James at all, except in looks. I was quite surprised." As the goblin assigned to a young James, Stonefist knew him better than the others. "James would never have allowed me to select and purchase clothing. He was much more aware of his rank and position in the world. Harry was quite familiar with Griphook; they seemed to get on well. Harry didn't behave much like a Potter, or any ranked pureblood for that matter. We should chat with Griphook once he returns. His insight into the lad would be most helpful."

"I disagree." Swiftrock startled them all. "Yes, we should speak with Griphook, but the boy **is** like a Potter, just not much like recent Potters. He resembles one you would not remember. I saw something in his face and eyes that I had not seen in a Potter since I was a youth. It is still young, not fully formed, but the potential and beginning is there."

Simak's gaze sharpened as he locked eyes with Swiftrock. With a very toothy grin, Swiftrock nodded and Simak's eyes widened and he began to chuckle.

"Who?" asked one of the young Blacks.

"The human who was Lord for many years when I was a young goblin. Gwilam, Lord Potter."

Greldac joined them in their toothy grins and laughs, while Stonefist and the younger Black goblins still looked confused. Swiftrock explained.

"A very worthy Lord, for a human. He was a most faithful friend, a most vicious enemy, and an even better businessman. Extraordinarily strong willed, able to throw off the Imperious as if it were a tickling hex. If the lad takes after him, woe betide those who cross him when he grows up. Gwilam Potter never forgot a slight, ever, and he always made them pay…..in the most intriguing ways…he was almost goblin like in that regard."

Simak stopped laughing to add his viewpoint. "If you are right, he will lead Dumbledore in such a dance that has not been seen in many a long day…perhaps we should be his dance instructors?"

Swiftrock and Simak nodded to each other. They would leave off their own turf battle in favor of watching Dumbledore dance with the descendent of Gwilam Potter. Their aid, of course, would only be available if the boy proved capable of providing a worthy spectacle.

oooOoooOoooOooo

Harry opened the door to the shop hoping that Bran and Sophie wouldn't ask a lot of questions. He just wanted to go home where it was quiet. He was looking forward to tomorrow's simple routine with his Aunt.

He found them sitting in the squashy chairs with another older man he didn't know.

"Hi. I'm back."

Sophie noticed he was subdued, not the boy she was used to seeing when he was away from his family.

Bran sat forward and reached for Harry, pulling him next to his chair and wrapping his arm around the quiet child. Harry leaned against him, accepting the comfort.

"Are you ready to go back?"

Harry simply nodded. It was beginning to feel like a dream, except he could see a couple of the guards in the bookstore and some of the others on the street.

"Well then, we should be on our way." Sophie stood up and gathered up a shopping bag.

Bran took Harry's hand then stood, keeping hold of Harry. "This is my friend Gerald. We ran into him here earlier."

Gerald smiled. "Nice to meet you lad. I'm going along to keep Bran company on the return train ride, keep him out of trouble."

Harry smiled. "Hullo." He looked up at Sophie. "I'm ready. Can we go?"

She nodded and led the way out of the shop.

On the sidewalk, Bran picked up Harry and settled him on his hip. "It's a bit crowded, don't want to lose hold of my buddy." He grinned over at Harry, but only received a small smile in return.

The Tube trip in reverse seemed longer than Harry remembered, but eventually they were riding up the escalators into the main train station. Gerald offered to go get tickets for he and Bran while Bran and Harry tried to guess which train on the reader board would be theirs.

When he returned, Gerald handed a ticket to Bran with a laugh. "Either I got the same teller as you did last time, or there's a plot to send you to Greater Whinging."

"Perhaps I should stop by some time, see what's there." Bran smirked a bit.

"Nothing." Sophie shook her head. "It's just a slightly larger version of Little Whinging. Nothing to recommend it. Right Harry?"

He shrugged. "It's alright. Aunt Petunia goes to the shops there sometimes. Our nursery is just outside there."

"Nursery?"

Harry perked up a little. "The place we go to for our plants. The man's going to grow seeds for us for our vegetable garden this spring. We're going to have a brilliant garden next year."

The adults queried Harry about his garden plans while sharing relieved glances behind his back. His quietness had had everyone worried and they were glad to see a spark come back to his eyes and color in his cheeks.

Unlike last time, they had to wait quite a while for their train, but they occupied themselves talking about Harry and Petunia's garden plans and other gardens the adults had seen. A good 15 minutes were spent on the greenhouses of Kew alone. Harry never realized they were very skillfully keeping his mind occupied with simple, pleasant ideas.

By the time the train arrived, Harry's emotions were much calmer, but he was completely exhausted, the emotional drain had hit bottom. They took seats in the back section with Harry and Bran's backs to the rest of the car. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep leaning against Bran. Sophie and Gerald, from the facing seats, watched as Bran shifted slightly sideways and adjusted the small boy across his lap and against his chest. Harry fell deeper into sleep to the feel of Bran's fingers idly sifting through his hair. Bran stared down at Harry's hand resting against his chest, smiling.

After several minutes of watching the man stare at the boy's hand, grinning like a loon, Sophie was dying to know just what was holding his attention. She sat upright in her seat as she noticed a slight glow coming from Harry, his chest and his hand, or maybe it was from Bran or both of them, she couldn't tell.

Gerald grabbed her arm. "Don't interrupt!" he whispered.

Bran was murmuring something, she couldn't quite hear, but it sounded vaguely Gaelic or maybe Latin. _Good God! He's doing magic on the Train!_ Sophie glanced around in shock, but nobody seemed to be able to see over the seat to the pair, or notice the glow. Bran kissed Harry's brow, whispered one more phrase and the glow faded. He smiled as he looked up.

"You took quite a risk." Gerald sounded angry.

"Not as much as you think, the train is moving. Besides, it will help keep him safe. It needed to be done." Bran was definitely not sounding or looking repentant. In fact, he was quite smug as he took the child's hand in his and shifted him into a more comfortable position.

"We will discuss this later."

Bran held Gerald's eyes for a moment, and there was no sign of the flustered, boyish man of earlier. "Perhaps, but this was my call, and our Lord will agree with me when we do discuss today back home."

"We shall see." His words and tone were ominous. Gerald was truly angry. Sophie was dying to ask what he'd done, but didn't dare take the risk with Gerald's temper, pus the public venue.

They were silent until the train arrived in Little Whinging and Bran carried the sleeping boy out to the platform before waking him. The goblin guard watched them leave; they would exit at the next station then take a return portkey. Griphook was very thoughtful. He'd noticed the glow and it shouldn't have happened, he'd been under the impression that Bran Connely was a squib.

"Harry." Bran very gently shook him. "Harry. Time to wake up. You'll need to walk home. Somehow, I don't think your Aunt would be happy if I carried you home asleep!"

Harry opened his eyes as Bran laughed at his own joke.

"No, she wouldn't be happy at all!" The boy stretched, looked around and then slid his legs to the ground and stood yawning and blinking sleepily. "I slept the whole way?"

"Yes, you sure did. Are you alright to head home alone?"

"I'll walk along with him. I do live here and have an excellent excuse to walk home any of my students from the park." Sophie spoke up and exchanged a challenging look with Bran. To her surprise, he just smiled back.

"Yes, you do at that." He ran his hand over Harry's hair. "You don't mind, little man, do you? If Sophie walks part of the way back with you? Not to the door exactly, but just down the street close to home?"

"No, that's alright." He took a few steps and grasped Sophie's hand.

"Are we still on for next weekend, or did you change your mind?" Bran asked hopefully.

"Yep, it's still on. OH NO! We forgot to look at the train schedule for next Saturday!"

"Don't worry. I've got Sophie's number. I can check when I get back and then give her a call and she can let you know at school sometime this week. How's that?"

Harry broke free of Sophie so he could hug Bran.

"Great! I'll see you Saturday! Bye! Bye Gerald, nice to meet you."

Grabbing Sophie's hand, he dragged her down the stairs. Harry wanted home, now. He'd see Bran on Saturday, so felt no need for a long drawn out goodbye.

Like before, Bran moved to watch them leave the station. He grimaced as he thought about next Saturday.

"I was hoping the goblins would have explained about the Malfoys and discouraged that."

"Perhaps he's waiting to drop the other boy face to face. It's not like he can call him up on the telephone and cancel things."

Bran looked hopeful at Gerald's words. It made sense.

Harry went straight to his cupboard once he got home. After retrieving hippo, he tucked his satchel deep under the stair landing. He'd deal with everything inside later. He curled up around his pillow, wishing he could expand hippo himself instead of waiting until 8pm. He looked at his hands, at the rings on his fingers. He'd left this morning just Harry Potter, the penniless orphan that lived with the Dursleys in the cupboard under the stairs. He came home the wealthy young heir to a title, two titles actually, and owner of his own homes.

Everything he'd learned today was so much more than he'd thought possible. He felt a bit like he was drowning. He heard Aunt Petunia come down the stairs and go into the kitchen. It sounded like she was starting to organize dinner. Wanting a distraction, Harry left hippo on the bed and went to join her. He didn't want to think about it for a while.

That night at dinner, Dudley pulled out of his self-absorption and noticed his parent's oddly quiet behavior. _What's up with everyone today?_ Even Harry was out of it and didn't react when Dudley made a face at him earlier. Dudley spent the rest of the evening watching everyone and wondering what he'd missed that made everyone else so quiet.

EOC

* * *

**AN**: Hope you enjoyed! The next chapter will show Sophie and Gerald's talk through Gerald's report to his superior - yes, you'll find out about Bran and Gerald. J What isn't covered in the report, will be covered through Sophie thinking back in later scenes. That scene just didn't work well in this chapter and I decided to break it up and move it. I have an outline and a bit of a few scenes for the next chapter, but that's all, so it's going to be a while for the next update. I'm not sure which story will be updated next, this or Twist. My Twist muse has been tickling….


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